The Last Five Years
by Bella7
Summary: EC/RV Sometimes really good things have to fall apart so that something even better can fall together. R/R?
1. Prologue

AN: This is picking up after "Telling Jokes to God". If you're really, truly, desperately curious as to where Lucas came from, go read Telling Jokes. Otherwise, I think you should be able to follow along quite nicely. But read Telling Jokes anyway...because...well...it's good? Anyway, carry on.

**Prologue**

Anyone who knew her knew that Clorinda Delko was a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. Holiday dinners were no exception to this rule and _Noche Buena_ was, as Eric and his sisters had always referred to it, like her World Series.

"Eric," she snapped, focusing her dark eyes on her only son, "what are you doing?"

His own eyes widened and he held up his hands in defense. "Nothing, _Mama_."

"Well, _why not_?" she demanded, motioning with gusto to the many dishes waiting to be taken out to the backyard. "Take something—anything. Make yourself useful," the matriarch shook her head before turning her attention to her grandchildren. "Dee—"

"Over here, _Abuela_," the twelve year-old rolled her eyes from behind her grandmother who had confused her for her cousin once again. "That's Ana you're talking to." She and Ana giggled behind small hands.

"Whoever you are!" Clorinda exclaimed, throwing up her hands. She pushed a serving bowl at each of them. "These, outside—now."

"Clorinda—" Calleigh began delicately as she entered the crowded kitchen.

"What?" the older woman snapped before softening as she realized who it was. "Calleigh, _querida_, I'm sorry. What can I do for you?"

Calleigh smiled and caught her husband's rolling eyes at his mother's change in disposition. "I was actually going to ask you the same thing. The table's all set; what else do you need?"

"Did you set it for sixteen?" she asked after counting on her floured fingers.

"No," Calleigh's face faltered. "Only fourteen."

"Your friends Ryan and Maxine aren't coming?"

"No, not this year," she pursed her lips. "I thought Eric told you."

Clorinda waved away the thought. "He probably did. My mind—" she gave a hopeless little chuckle. "Certainly not what it used to be. They decided to go somewhere else for the holidays?" she asked absently, returning to the stove.

Eric exchanged a tense look with Calleigh. Ryan and Maxine weren't exactly a topic ripe for discussion at Christmas dinner. "Something like that, _Mama_."

"All right then," she turned from the simmering sweet dessert sauces and smiled at the pair. "Where's my Lucas?"

Calleigh smiled. "He's outside, playing with the girls, I think."

"Best call them all in—we're just about ready to eat."

As they followed her outside to where Pavel was already herding the grandchildren to the table, Eric slipped his hand inside Calleigh's' and squeezed her fingers. "You asked him again?" he asked quietly.

She nodded sadly. "Yeah, her too. I just hate to see them alone this time of year."

He kissed her forehead softly. "They're both coming over tomorrow, aren't they?"

Calleigh shook her head. "Just Ryan—Max said she picked up an extra shift."

"That girl works way too much," he commented with a shake of his head.

"Well what else is she going to do? I guess it beats…" Calleigh trailed off and gave a little shudder. "I can't even imagine how she must be feeling lately."

"Probably the same as he is," Eric said. "If they'd talk to each other it might actually do some good for both of them."

She sighed. "I don't know…they might be past talking at this point."

Eric bent his head and kissed her quickly. "Come on, let's eat. It's Christmas—happy thoughts, remember?"

"Happy thoughts," Calleigh repeated, tilting her head to kiss him again. "I remember."

"Mom! Dad!" They broke apart and turned to see Lucas standing just outside the doorway. "Would you stop with the yucky love stuff? It's _dinnertime._" The seven year-old gave an exasperated shake of his head.

Calleigh laughed and ruffled his hair as she walked past.

0x0x0

Eric rolled over in bed and reached for Calleigh; his fingers unexpectedly brushed a flattened pillow and rumpled sheets—but no Calleigh. He frowned and pulled his eyes open all the way, surprised to find himself alone in bed.

He threw off the blankets and wandered out into the hallway; a smile graced his lips as he noticed the glow of Christmas lights coming from downstairs. He followed it and found Calleigh sitting by the tree, sipping a cup of what he could guess was probably chamomile tea.

"Anxious to see what Santa brought you?" he teased from the doorway.

She glanced up and smiled. "I'm sorry—I was trying not to wake you."

"Don't worry about it," Eric crossed the room and dropped down next to her on the couch, moving his arm so she could cuddle into him. "But it's late," he murmured against her hair. "You should come up to bed—we've got a little boy who's going to be waking us up in about three hours."

Calleigh smiled and let her eyes fall to the mountain of presents waiting for Lucas under the tree. "Remember how we said we weren't going to overdo it this year?"

Eric laughed. "Yeah, but he needs all that stuff."

"Right," she chuckled, moving to set her tea cup on the coffee table. As she did so, the picture she'd been looking at dislodged from its place beside her and fell to the ground.

Eric bent and picked it up. "What are you looking at?" his expression dimmed when he saw what photo it was. "Cal…"

"I know," she shook her head and took the frame back. "I have to stop worrying about them but—" she sighed. "They were so happy."

And she was right. In the picture—taken at Eric and Calleigh's wedding—they were so happy. It was a shot of the four of them (the Anti-Stetler Movement, as Natalia had referred to them) sitting at a table, laughing about something. Ryan's arm was thrown carelessly over Valera's shoulder, her head tilted toward him. On her left hand was a sparkling diamond ring.

Eric sighed. It felt like forever that they'd all been that happy; had it really only been five years? "Come on babe," he gave Calleigh a gentle nudge. "Let's get some sleep."

She nodded in agreement and, after dumping out the rest of her tea, followed him upstairs with a last sad look at the picture. How had things spiraled so far out of control?

--

Just a prologue to wet your whistle. R/R?


	2. Chapter One

AN: Thank you ever so much for the lovely reviews! I forgot to give my disclaimers before, so here they are! The title is a Broadway musical (which EVERYONE should listen to—it's fab) and of course, I don't own anything from the Miami-verse. I do, however, own Lucas and anyone else you don't recognize. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One**

As expected, both Eric and Calleigh found themselves being bounced awake at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning. They spent the next few hours tearing into presents with equal excitement, showering one another in kisses and hugs and 'thank-you's, before finally settling down to play with everything Santa had brought them.

Calleigh laughed to herself as she retrieved a garbage bag from the kitchen—no matter how old she got, spending Christmas with Lucas always made her feel like a kid again. She grabbed handfuls of demolished wrapping paper and began stuffing it into the garbage bag, watching with amusement as the men in her life attempted to set up one of Lucas' video games.

"Dad, c'mon just plug it in," Lucas sighed impatiently.

"Hang on, bud," Eric didn't look up from the thick book of directions. "I don't want to short-circuit the whole house."

"Again," Calleigh put in quietly before returning to the kitchen.

"One time!" she heard him holler after her.

"Dad," Lucas was rolling his eyes when she returned to the living room. "You know like, six languages…just figure out what to do."

Eric flipped another page in the booklet and narrowed his eyes. "I know _three,_" he corrected, "and this seems to be written in Japanese." After a few more moments, he tossed it over his shoulder and onto the couch. "Hell with it—we can figure this out."

Calleigh laughed and shook her head. "While we still have power, what do you guys want for breakfast?"

"Dippy eggs!" Lucas cried.

His mother raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Dippy eggs what?"

"Dippy eggs, _please,_" he corrected himself. "Sorry."

"That's better," she placed a hand on Eric's shoulder. "What about you?"

He looked up and smiled. "Dippy eggs sound good to me too."

She leaned down and brushed her lips with his. "You guys are easy," she declared, heading back into the kitchen. The griddle was set out and the oven set for toasting half a loaf of bread before she dug the eggs from the back of the refrigerator. As she cracked the first egg, however, Calleigh felt a wave of nausea roll over her. She stopped and gave a hard, deliberate swallow before trying another egg. Again she felt her stomach flip flopping. It was the smell, she decided. The eggs couldn't have gone bad—she'd just bought them on Sunday—but the smell was making her sick.

"Eric?" she called weakly, taking a few deep breaths and bracing herself on the counter's edge.

"What's up?" he asked, strolling into the kitchen. His expression changed quickly and he rushed to her side. "What's going on, babe? You okay?"

"Yeah," she straightened again and gave another swallow. "Yeah, I'm fine; I'm just feeling a little queasy."

Eric led her over to the breakfast bar and helped her up onto one of the stools. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she waved his concern away. "Probably just had too much yucca last night."

He gave her a look. "There's no such thing as too much yucca." She laughed for a moment before he stroked her hair. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," she smiled up at him. "But would you mind fixing breakfast? The eggs were just not agreeing with me."

He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Go play Rock Band with Lucas…you'll feel better."

0x0x0

By mid-afternoon, Calleigh's nausea had more or less subsided, though getting whooped by her son at video games had done little to help.

"Mom, you're dead," he stated for the millionth time that day. "I just killed you."

"What?" She looked at the screen, surprised to see her side fading red and black. "How?"

"With my rocket launcher."

"Oh," she rolled her eyes. "Of course. With your rocket launcher." She squinted at the television again. "Why didn't I get a rocket launcher?"

"Because you don't know the codes."

Calleigh raised an eyebrow. "You've had this game for five hours—how do you know the codes?"

Before Lucas was able to divulge his secrets, the doorbell rang. "Uncle Ryan's here!" he cried, getting to his feet.

"Hey, hey," Calleigh grabbed his arm as he made for the door. "Remember what I told you?"

He scrunched up his face. "No asking about Aunt Max?"

"Bingo." The doorbell rang again. "Go get it," she gave him a gentle push as she pulled herself off the couch and hurried to change her clothes.

Ryan was waiting behind the door when Lucas pulled it open. His face brightened considerably when he set eyes on his godson. "Hey, man! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Lucas echoed, throwing his arms around Ryan's torso and hugging him tightly. "Was Santa good to you?"

Ryan considered this for a minute. "Y'know, he was," he agreed after a moment. "But he did the weirdest thing—he left all these extra presents for you at my place—weird, huh?"

The child's eyes grew wide. "He did?"

"I don't know, I think he might be slipping in his old age. Anyway, I didn't have the heart to tell him he messed up—I thought I'd deliver them myself." He gave a jerk of his head toward his car. "They're in the backseat and hey—" Lucas stopped mid-sprint and turned around. "If you see Santa, don't let him know, all right? We'll just keep this between us."

Eric stood chuckling in the doorway when Ryan turned back around. He took note of his best friend's appearance: Ryan looked worn out, scruffy, and like he'd been losing weight. His sweater hung on him and did nothing but bring out the dark circles under his eyes. As he had with Lucas, however, he brightened when Eric welcomed him in with a hug. "Merry Christmas, Delko."

"Back at you," Eric gave him a thump on the back before letting him go. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," he said breezily, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Can't complain." They both knew that wasn't true, but neither mentioned it.

Eric peered around him to see his son struggling from Ryan's car under a huge pile of presents. "Those aren't all for him," he stated hopefully.

"Mostly," Ryan smiled. "It's Christmas, Delko—I only get so many chances a year to spoil the kid. And half of those are Hanukah presents."

"He's not Jewish, Wolfe!"

"Eh," Ryan shrugged. "Details, details. Where's the little woman?"

"I'm up here," Calleigh called from upstairs. "I'll be down in just a minute!"

They were sitting in the living room, watching Lucas rip into his presents when she joined them. She stopped in the doorway. "Where did all of these presents come from?"

Lucas stopped for a moment. "Santa left them at Uncle Ryan's."

"How convenient," she commented, dropping onto the couch next to her friend. They hugged briefly and exchange Christmas greetings. "You missed a good time last night," she said tucking her hair behind her ears.

"That's what I hear," he said with a nod. "But no, it's cool—my parents decided to come down for a few days, we went out to dinner."

"Oh, that's nice," Calleigh said with a smile. "How are they doing?"

"They're fine," Ryan shrugged. "They were just…" he stopped himself and looked at the ground for a moment.

"Just?" Eric prompted from across the room.

"Just worried about me, I guess."

Calleigh reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

0x0x0

Maxine did not love her job at the Opa-locka Crime Lab. She liked it all right because it wasn't too far from her new apartment and the people were relatively friendly and they didn't harass her for working all the time. But she didn't love it. She had _loved _her job at MDPD. The pay had been better, the equipment more up-to-date, the workload less daunting, and best of all, her friends had been there.

She drummed her fingernails off the countertop and willed the centrifuge to process faster. A man with red hair walked past and Maxine felt her heart soar for a moment before she realized it wasn't Horatio—it was Les from Trace. He gave her a pleasant smile and a wave. She waved back.

Friendly. Not friends.

She wished it had been Horatio. She missed his smirk and his soft voice and the touch of concern that was always found there. She even missed those stupid sunglasses. She missed joking with Natalia while they waited on results, catching up with Calleigh in the break room, laughing at whatever latest squabble was going on between Eric and Ryan.

Maxine stopped at the thought.

Ryan.

She did miss him, truth be told. She missed his voice and his kiss and his touch and his laugh and even little things about him that had used to her annoy her. She even missed those.

"But it's over now," she said softly to herself. "It's over." Nothing had made that more clear than when she'd woken up that morning, alone on Christmas for the first time in six years.

Charles Winter popped his head into the lab. "Maxine," he said with a surprised smile. "I can't believe you're still here."

Max looked at the clock—it was almost eight. "Yeah, still here, just waiting for this sample to finish processing," she pointed listlessly to the centrifuge—still moving at a glacial pace.

"Caine said you were dedicated," the Lieutenant shook his balding head. "I didn't realize what an understatement that was." He softened for a moment. "But don't you have somewhere you'd rather be on Christmas?"

Maxine thought of the message Calleigh had left on her answering machine. '_Hey, babe. Just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas and let you know that we've got plenty of pie left if you want to stop over after your shift. Give me a call.'_ She shook her head. "I need the extra hours," she lied.

Charles nodded and regarded her wearily for a few moments. "Well, I'm off—things seem to be pretty quiet around here." He took a few steps out of the lab before coming back in. "Merry Christmas, Maxine."

She smiled. "Merry Christmas."

Her smiled faded as soon as her boss had left the room. Merry Christmas indeed.

* * *

AN: See? Nothing happy here. All righty, I don't know if Opa-Locka has a crime lab. Just say, for the sake of argument, they do and that's where Valera is now working. All will be revealed soon, friends, I promise. R/R for cookies?


	3. Chapter Two

AN: Your support? Awesome. And hooray for mhopeg who listened to some "The Last Five Years" and loved it. Yay! Okay, on with the show…

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Calleigh was on the phone when Maxine spotted her at their usual booth. She gave a smile and a wave before furrowing her brow once again; Max caught the tail end of the conversation as she pushed her way through the crowded diner.

"Well, I can't make any promises," Calleigh was sighing as she raked a hand through her hair. "No, I didn't know they were leaving the kids with my mom and dad," she glanced up and offered another smile when her friend dropped into the squishy vinyl seat across from her. "I gotta go—we'll figure it out." She smiled and allowed a small roll of her eyes before quietly adding, "I love you too." The phone was tucked away with a shake of her head and an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry about that," Calleigh smiled across the table.

Maxine smiled back. "Everything okay?"

"Just trying to firm up plans for New Years Eve," she sighed again. "My sister-in-law has a habit of forgetting what plans she made."

"Oh, did she and your brother flake out?"

"No, they're still flying in tonight but they neglected to mention it was just going to be the two of them."

Maxine quirked an eyebrow. "Problems?"

"I don't know," Calleigh shook her head. "I promised them we'd spend New Years together, but now I don't know what to do about Lucas. If his cousins were going to be here I was just going to have everyone stay at the house but if it's just him and a handful of adults…"

Her companion nodded. "Not exactly a barrel of laughs for the kid."

Calleigh chose her next words carefully. "We have a sitter but he's working until ten-thirty…" she trailed off as the waitress approached the booth.

"Coffee, ladies?" she asked, brandishing the full pot enticingly.

"Yes, please," Maxine turned her mug over quickly.

"What about you, honey?" the server's eyes had fallen upon Calleigh.

"Just some hot tea, please? With honey," she caught the inquisitive stare she was being shot as the waitress bustled away. "I think I caught that stomach flu that's going around," she explained. "I've been sick all week."

The other woman's face wrinkled. "Forgive me if I don't hug you," she shook her head. "The last thing I need is to get sick."

"Trust me, I wouldn't wish this bug on anyone."

"So wait, what were you saying before? The sitter can't make it until ten-thirty?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Why don't I watch Lucas until then?"

"No, I couldn't ask you to do that," Calleigh shook her head. "Besides, if you didn't have other plans I was going to ask you to come out with us."

"I can still do that," Maxine said good naturedly. "I'll hang out with Luke until your sitter gets there, then I'll meet up with you guys after that."

"You really don't mind doing that?"

"Of course not! Besides, I haven't seen the little monster in a while."

Calleigh smiled. "He misses you a lot—he was just saying so the other night."

"I miss him too," Maxine said with a little sigh. "I know I've been distant lately…"

"Don't worry about it," Cal waved the comment away. "We all understand."

"It's not an excuse," she argued. "I know you guys didn't take sides or anything I just…" she shrugged. "I guess I thought everyone needed a little space?"

"Like I said," the blonde reached over and squeezed her friend's hand. "We all understand." She smiled. "Just make up for it in the new year, lady."

Maxine mirrored Calleigh's infectious smile. "That's a promise."

**0x0x0**

"You're sure you don't mind?" Calleigh asked for the hundredth time as she fastened her earring to her lobes.

"We've been over this," Maxine rolled her eyes, following her friend from the master bedroom out into the hallway. "No, I don't mind." She ducked out of the way as Lucas zoomed past her down the stairs.

"Slow down!" Calleigh called after him.

"Hey, Aunt Max," the child stopped at the foot of the stairs and called up to her.

"What?"

"Can we play Guitar Hero?"

"Only if you let me pick the songs," she teased.

He gave a cavernous sigh. "Promise not to pick Free Bird _again_?"

"I can't promise anything."

They were interrupted as Eric grabbed his son from behind and tossed him effortlessly over his shoulder, making the little boy scream with laughter. "Hey, Cal—you almost ready? Your brother just called, they're at the restaurant."

"Damnit," Calleigh muttered from the hallway bathroom. "I'll be down in a minute!" she called.

It was just over a few minutes before the four of them found themselves in the kitchen together, Lucas waiting patiently while Eric fixed him a dish of ice cream.

"More chocolate chips," he insisted.

Eric raised an eyebrow. "I think that's more than enough to get you to midnight, buddy."

"Then can I have more whipped cream?" he asked, widening his chocolate eyes.

Maxine wrapped him in a hug from behind. "Just wait 'til they leave," she whispered, "we'll make real sundaes—all right?"

Lucas grinned. "Okay," he whispered back.

Calleigh looked up from the map she was drawing. "What are you two whispering about?"

"Don't worry about it," Maxine shrugged with a toss of her hair.

Eric eyed the pair warily. Valera and Lucas had always been pals; even when he was a baby, if she was around Lucas had reached for Maxine, preferring her large eyes and big jewelry to play with. As he'd gotten older, they'd turned more into kindred spirits and more often than not it was Maxine who talked Eric and Calleigh into more lenient punishments for their son's misbehavior.

"I drew you a map to the restaurant," Calleigh said, sliding the pad of paper across the counter.

"Great," she tapped her fingernails against Calleigh's drawing. "You guys should get going; you're going to be late."

Eric came around the breakfast bar and bent to be at eye level with Lucas. "All right, man—you be good, I don't want any bad reports."

"Bad reports?" Maxine scoffed. "What are you, kiddin' me?"

"I'll be good, Dad," Lucas said. "I promise."

Eric smiled. "That's what I like to hear," he pulled the little boy into a hug. "I'll see you next year."

"Don't say that!" he exclaimed into Eric's shirt.

His father laughed. "All right, all right. I'll see you tomorrow—better?" He felt him nod. "Okay," Eric kissed the top of his head and let him go.

Calleigh hugged him next, tightly as she always did, dropping a kiss onto his forehead before letting go. "Have a good time." She looked up at Maxine. "Call when you feel like joining us."

She smiled, promised she would, and bid her friends farewell.

"You really think this is a good idea?" Eric asked quietly as they made their way out to the car.

"They have to talk to each other eventually," Calleigh said, pulling open the passenger's seat.

"Yeah…but still…" a guilty look passed over Eric's face as he got into the driver's seat and fastened his seatbelt. "It feels kind of shady."

"It is kind of shady," Calleigh agreed with a nod. "But they can't give each other the silent treatment forever."

"I don't know," Eric shook his head and started the car. "We're dealing with two of the most stubborn people I've ever met."

"Which is why they're never going to get anywhere without a little help," Calleigh flashed a dazzling smile.

Eric gave a resigned sigh and felt the corners of his own mouth being tugged upward. "And that's where you come in, right?"

"It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it."

As he pulled out the drive, Eric couldn't help but hope that Calleigh's plan didn't backfire.

**0x0x0**

It was nearing ten-thirty when Maxine shut off the video games and handed Lucas the plastic guitars to put away. "I think you've been practicing Aunt Max," he commented, placing them on the shelf.

She smiled. "Maybe a little in my spare time," she gave a modest shrug and turned the television to New Year's Rockin' Eve.

"What's that?"

"Tradition," she answered simply. When Lucas looked unconvinced, she continued. "On New Year's Eve, you watch Dick Clark, drink champagne, and when it's midnight you yell 'HAPPY NEW YEAR' and give everyone a kiss."

Her charge looked skeptical. "Everyone? Even strangers?"

She stopped and thought about it. True, she had had a few fairly exciting New Years Eves as a result of doing just that. But still…the adult won out. "No," she shook her head. "Not strangers. Just people you love."

"Who are you going to kiss at midnight, Aunt Max?" Before she had a chance to answer that loaded question, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!"

She followed him to the door and watched while he undid the deadbolt before pulling it open. Her heart dropped to her stomach as she found herself staring at Ryan Wolfe.

His eyes doubled in size. "Uh…hey Max."

"Hey Ryan," she breathed, hoping he couldn't hear her heart pounding in her chest. "How's it going?"

"Hang on, Uncle Ryan," Lucas interrupted. "Let me go grab my bag."

"Oh," Maxine followed him with her eyes as he tore up the stairs to his room. "You're here to pick up Lucas?"

"Yeah," he bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet. "I would've been here earlier but work…it uh…"

"Yeah," she nodded as he trailed off. A moment of silence passed between them. "How is it? The lab…everyone…"

"It's good," he said a bit too cheerfully. "It's…yeah…everyone's good."

"Good." She cleared her throat and turned back toward the stairs. "Lucas, c'mon buddy. You don't want to keep Ryan waiting."

"I'm coming!" he called.

"So, you got any big plans for the night?" Ryan asked, searching her for any evidence of going out later.

"I don't know," she shrugged at an attempt at carelessness. "I might go meet Eric and Calleigh, but I'm not sure."

Lucas disrupted their stumbling attempt at conversation by flying down the stairs once more, knapsack in hand. "Ready to go," he stated proudly.

"All right," Ryan smiled and they high-fived. He looked up and Maxine and sobered once again. "Well…uh…good night, Max. Happy New Year."

"Yeah," she forced a smile. "Happy New Year."

Lucas looked expectantly between the two of them. "Well aren't you gonna kiss?" he asked after a moment.

"What?"

"You said that you say 'Happy New Year' and then you kiss," he repeated her lesson on tradition.

They glanced nervously at each other before Maxine let out a strained laugh. "You're right," she said, ruffling the child's hair. "I did say that. So here," she bent and kissed him. "Happy New Year."

He gave her a hug in return. "I don't think that counts," he whispered before he let her go.

Ryan took his hand and led him outside, offering a wave over his shoulder as they reached the car.

Maxine closed the door, locked it and leaned against it, fighting the scream that was bubbling inside her chest.

She was going to kill Calleigh.

**0x0x0**

The first of the year dawned with a stunning cobalt blue morning sky and just the slightest of breezes blowing in off the coast. Calleigh, still feeling weak and miserable stumbled from the bathroom to the front porch to retrieve the morning paper. She turned instinctively to the third page—usually where the crime desk reported all the leaks from MDPD.

'_JAILHOUSE MURDER AT STATE PEN' _screamed the headline, dragging her eyes across the page to the story.

_Inmates and officials alike are being questioned for the murder of Joseph Wacops—_the mug she'd been holding fell from her hands—_who was found dead early yesterday morning, beaten to death in his cell. Sources list Wacops as unpopular man, even by state penitentiary standards—_she didn't hear the ceramic shatter on the floor or feel the hot coffee pooling around her feet—_Wacops was arrested last year and sentenced to life in prison after being convicted of the rape and murder of Katherine Wolfe—age two._

Next to the article was a picture of a beautiful little girl with thick dark hair and large, expressive hazel eyes. Calleigh felt a familiar lump form in her throat as her finger's traced the child's smile. She'd taken that picture.

The picture of Katie.

Maxine and Ryan's daughter.

* * *

AN: So there you have it. I don't know, this chapter felt forced to me. I'm okay if you didn't love it, but I hope you'll leave me some love anyway. The Ryan/Valera scene was most definitely inspired by the Sex and the City movie so…yeah. Anyway, we're about to get into the meat of the story. Prepare yourselves for some intense flashbacks. Don't say I didn't warn you. C'mon though, gimme some sugar!


	4. Chapter Three

AN: This chapter is dedicated to the zen master without whom I'd never be able to write a decent word. And to Joni Mitchell for the songs "Both Sides Now" and "River." Woman, you are truly a gift to the world. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_The sky was clouding over, distant rumblings rolling in from the ocean when Ryan noticed the group of children returning from the park. He squinted from the living room—Katie wasn't with them. Pushing open the screen door, he noticed Erin—the oldest—jogging toward him._

_"Where's Katie?" he asked before she could say anything. He didn't like the knot that was twisting in his stomach._

_Erin's brow crinkled. "Your friend didn't drop her off yet?"_

_"What friend? What are you talking about?" The panic was setting in now. He could feel it in his voice, inking into the calm he was trying to maintain._

_"Katie fell and hurt her knee," Erin explained, a hand coming up to nervously twist at the end of an auburn braid. "We were walking back from the park and I was having trouble carrying her and—" she dropped her blue eyes to the ground as the realization of what might have just happened began to hit her._

_"And what?" Ryan demanded. "What happened?"_

_"There was a cop, he showed us his badge and everything. He said he knew you and he that he could take Katie home and he took her in his car and…" she trailed off.. _

_"How long ago was that?" he asked begging himself to stay calm. Maybe she really had gone with someone who knew him. Maybe a patrol car would be pulling into the drive any minute._

_Erin looked at her cartoon character watch. "Almost two hours ago," she said softly. "They're really not back yet?"_

_"Oh my God…" Fighting the urge to vomit, Ryan ducked back into the house and grabbed his cell phone off the table. "Erin, I want you to tell me everything you remember about that car, you understand?"_

_She nodded tearfully. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Wolfe."_

_"Just tell me about the car."_

_She pinched the bridge of her nose. "It was…um…it was a white car—like a cop car but without the words and numbers on it."_

_"So a white Crown Vic," he prompted. "Do you remember if there was anything unusual about it?"_

_Erin thought for a long moment. "There was…I think it was missing a hubcap?"_

_"Which one?"_

_"I don't remember."_

_"Okay," he willed himself to be patient. She was, after all, just a scared little girl. "Think about what you saw when it was driving away. Did the side facing you have both hubcaps?"_

_She closed her eyes. "No. The back one was missing."_

_"What way did it go?"_

_Eyes still closed, she pointed to the right. "That way."_

_"Okay," Ryan flipped open his phone and called in an Amber Alert._

_He sat up for three straight days listening to the scanner, waiting by the phone, alternating between calling Eric and Horatio for information every hour. When dispatch came over the scanner at 11:48am, he got in his car and drove at a gut wrenchingly slow pace to the scene._

_Ryan noticed a guy from patrol—Collins—mutter something into his radio as he pulled up to the crest of trees. Moments later, Eric emerged from the forest._

_"Eric, is it her?" he asked immediately, rushing toward his friend. He hated how shrill his voice sounded, even to his own ears._

_"Ryan, come on," Eric said softly, using his first name for the first time in years. "You don't want to be here."_

_"Tell me, Delko—is that my daughter back there?" he gestured wildly to the woods. "Is that dead body that dispatch reported—" his voice caught for a moment. "Is that my little girl?" Eric took a deep breath, dark eyes shining with emotion and dropped his chin in the slightest of nods. Ryan felt something give out in his chest. "Oh my God…Katie…"_

_The last thing he remembered was fighting against Eric's arms locked around his body as his friend pulled him back to his car, further away from the scene, away from Katie._

Ryan shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. He looked at the clock—3:19am. Throwing off the blankets, he padded across the small apartment and into the bathroom. In the harsh glow of the florescent light, he stared hard at himself in the mirror.

He looked like hell. Scruffy, hollow-cheeked, dark circles under his eyes; a splash of water on his face did nothing to chase away the images that flashed in his mind each time he closed his eyes.

Katie—waving to him from the swing set.

Katie—begging for another bedtime story.

Katie—lying on Alexx' table, the beginnings of her Y-incision just visible over the sheet covering her tiny body.

Ryan took a shuddering breath and splashed more water on his face. He thought he would feel better knowing that the son-of-a-bitch who had killed her was dead. He didn't. He felt exactly the same—angry, broken, dead inside. Ryan had never understood those families of victims who opposed the death penalty for their loved ones' killer. Why wouldn't they want justice, he had always wondered.

But he saw now, more clearly than ever, that there was no justice for this kind of loss. No matter what had happened to Joseph Wacops in that cell, there was nothing that could come close to a fair punishment for the ruination of so many lives.

He turned off the light and made his way into the living room. There would be no sleep without dreams of his daughter. Ryan chose, instead, not to sleep.

**0x0x0**

Calleigh drummed her fingers nervously off the countertop, listening as Eric's key turned in the door.

"We're home!" Lucas yelled through the house.

"In here," she called after clearing her throat. Lucas got there first, greeting his mother with a hug and a 'what's for dinner?' Calleigh laughed. "I don't feel much like cooking, what do you want?"

"Pizza!"

She groaned. "We had pizza last week—what about Chinese?" she suggested, thinking at least she could sneak in some vegetables.

"Do I have to eat the broccoli?"

Or maybe not. She sighed and ruffled his hair. "How was practice?"

"I got a goal," he said proudly.

Calleigh smiled. "Way to go!" She looked toward the door. "Where's your dad?"

"Right here," Eric answered, dropping Lucas' book bag, soccer bag, and jacket onto the table. "Cleaning up after Hurricane Lucas."

The child had the decency to look contrite. "Sorry," he said with a shrug.

"Do me a favor," Calleigh asked of him. "Can you go get your shower now while we're waiting for dinner to get here?"

Lucas dropped his shoulder. "Mom…"

"Please?"

He sighed. "Do I have to wash my hair?"

"Yes," she said with a laugh. This was met with a groan and a string of incoherent grumbles as he took his bags and dragged himself upstairs. She stared after him with a shake of her head. "Another satisfied customer."

Eric laughed and came the table to give her a kiss. "He'll live."

"I should hope so."

"How was your doctor's appointment?"

Calleigh felt that twist of nervousness return to her stomach. "Fine," she smiled tightly.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "So…is everything okay?"

"Uh-huh," she moved past him to the cabinet where she removed a package of saltines.

"Well what did she say?"

Calleigh opened her mouth and closed it again. "Nothing life threatening."

Confused by her topic skirting, Eric shrugged. "All right, I guess that's good news." He picked up his son's jacket from the table and took it to the hall closet. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, coming back into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm sure in no time at all I'll be feeling…" she searched for an appropriate simile, "right as rain."

Eric gave her a wary eye and began sorting through the mail. "Right…"

"Speaking of rain," she said looking up at the ceiling where damage from the last hurricane was still evident. "I'm thinking we need to relocate."

Her husband scoffed. "You're kidding, right? We can get that fixed just as soon as we call a contractor."

"No, it's not just the roof," she said, still not meeting his eyes. "I think we're going to need more room."

Eric stopped shuffling the envelopes and looked at her. "Calleigh…"

She looked back and bit her lip. "Just another bedroom…maybe a bigger backyard?"

He took a few steps toward her, unable to keep the grin that was forming on his face. "Cal," he rested his hands on her hips and tipped their foreheads together. "Are we having a baby?"

"No," she said simply, clasping her hands behind his neck. "We're having two babies."

**0x0x0**

"Twins!?" Maxine exclaimed into the phone, feeling her eyes widen. "Are you sure?"

"Unless the ultrasound was lying," Calleigh laughed. "Trust me, no one was more surprised than I was."

"But you're excited," she verified. "Right?"

"Yeah," Calleigh's voice betrayed her words. "I'm just feeling a little nervous."

"Nervous?" Maxine repeated, dropping onto the couch. "What are you talking about? You're the best mom in the world."

"Not about that," she sighed. "I'm going to be forty next month—and as if that wasn't terrifying enough, now I find out I'm pregnant with twins? I'm the definition of a high-risk pregnancy." She gave another cavernous sigh. "It's just something that Eric has wanted for so long…I don't want to mess up."

Maxine wished she could hug her friend through the phone. It wasn't often that Calleigh allowed herself to appear anything less than Superwoman. "Cal, come on. You're the healthiest woman I know, if anyone has a shot of bringing two perfect, beautiful, healthy babies into this world, it's you."

Calleigh gave a little laugh. "I hope so."

"When are you due?" she changed the subject before Calleigh could get uncomfortable with too much consoling.

"July 8th," she said, allowing herself to feel the first real flutter of excitement. "But my doctor said that twins are usually early…so who knows."

They spoke a little while longer before going their separate ways. "Calleigh," Maxine said quickly before they hung up.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really happy for you guys," she smiled into the phone. "It's nice to have some good news finally."

She heard a smile in return. "I'm glad you think so. Have a good night Max."

Maxine hung up the phone and sat in the silence of her living room for a long time. She still remembered with perfect clarity how she'd felt when her doctor told her she was pregnant with Katie.

_"Pregnant?" she repeated, her eyes growing wider. "You mean I'm not just getting fat?"_

_The physician laughed. "No, Maxine. You're not just getting fat. Congratulations."_

She'd waited another three weeks before telling Ryan.

_He was sleeping in when she returned from the OB-GYN and balanced the ultrasound photo on the bridge of his nose. His brow crinkled and he muttered incoherently for a few moments before his eyes fluttered open and focused on her gift. _

_"Is this what I think it is?" he asked quietly, moving his eyes from the photo to her and back again._

_She smiled. "If you think it's our baby, then yeah—it's exactly what you think it is."_

_She didn't think there would ever be a greater feeling than how she felt when he looked up at her and smiled back._

Maxine shook her head and looked at the clock. It was still early. She pulled on her shoes and got into the car. The drive wasn't as familiar as it should have been; when she got there, she still needed to consult the map the funeral home had given her.

Four rows from the gate, ninth from the right.

The ground of the cemetery was soft beneath her ballet flats, and despite the balmy weather, she shivered and drew her sweatshirt tightly around her. Her head down, counting headstones, she didn't see him standing there until it was too late to turn back.

"Hey," he said softly, not turning from their daughter's headstone.

"Hey," she echoed.

The silence that passed over them was neither awkward nor comfortable.

"Did you hear about Calleigh?" she asked quietly after a few minutes.

"Yeah," the ghost of a smile crossed over his face. "Twins."

"It's good—Lucas needed some siblings."

"Yeah," he repeated. "It's good."

Another silence passed between them.

"I thought I'd feel better," she said finally, not trusting herself to look at him.

"Me too."

"I don't though."

"I know."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't know what I'm doing here…" she shook her head. "I don't know what I'm doing anywhere." With a last look at Katie's stone, she turned away. "I should go."

Ryan grabbed her hand and spun her back. "Maxine…."

She pulled her hand from his and stuffed it back into her sweatshirt. "What?"

"I miss us," he said so quietly the breeze nearly carried his words away.

Maxine felt the familiar pinprick of tears behind her eyes. "I'm sorry…I just…I can't…"

He nodded with heartbreaking resignation and turned back to the grave. "I know."

She turned to go before turning back again. "Ryan…" He glanced over his shoulder. "I…I miss us too."

She was in the car before the tears came. They didn't stop for the rest of the night.

* * *

AN: So duh, Cal's pregs. Everyone knew this, but we needed some joy, a little ray of light in this merry-go-round of pain and misery. Katie's kidnapping is taken from a real-life case I read about recently…which is way sad in and of itself. All right, duckies, leave me some lovin' to cheer my ass up after writing this miserable chapter.


	5. Chapter Four

AN: I know this is way overdue. And it's honestly not because this chapter is heaven in a Word document or anything like that. It's because there's a serious case of writer's block floating around and I caught a bad strain of it. Also, I don't want to create a new ME character...frankly, I don't have the energy. Alexx has not left...deal with it. Read on and try to enjoy. Love you much!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Ryan relayed the high-lights of his encounter with Maxine and waited expectantly for any kind of reaction from Calleigh while they combed a victim's clothing for trace.

"Well?" he asked finally after a few eternal moments had passed.

Calleigh looked up. "Well what?"

His shoulders sagged. "Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

"Of course I have," she smiled quickly before dropping her eyes back down to the shirt before her.

"And what do you think?"

Her smile faded and she looked up again. "And I don't know what to tell you," she answered honestly. "I think it's a good start."

Ryan gave a sigh. "Yeah," he looked away. "Yeah, maybe." He watched as she straightened and gave a very deliberate swallow, a look of panic flashed through her eyes. "Cal, you okay?"

"Mmm hmm," she managed a tight smile. "Would you excuse me?" she asked politely before bolting from the lab to the nearest ladies room.

He was still chuckling when Horatio breezed through the doorway. "How are we doing, Mr. Wolfe?" he asked, tossing his blazer aside to secure his hands to his hips.

"Good," he nodded. "Eric's working on prints and Calleigh and I are combing for trace."

Horatio looked around. "Yes, where is Calleigh?"

"She had to um…" Ryan motioned vaguely in the direction she'd darted. "She's not…"

The Lieutenant raised his eyebrows. "Is she feeling all right?"

"She's sick," he stumbled, feeling that was a safe enough answer.

"No she's not," he said matter-of-factly, dropping his eyes to the file he held in his hands. "She's pregnant. Keep me posted." He was gone before Ryan had a chance to respond.

"How does he _do _that?" Ryan asked aloud to himself.

"How does who do what?" Natalia asked, passing through.

"Horatio," Ryan clarified. "How does he know absolutely everything that's going on around here?"

"Like what?" she tilted her head to the side.

"Like he knows Calleigh's pregnant—I think she would have mentioned if she had told him."

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Lucas told Horatio about Calleigh."

"Lucas?"

"Yeah, I saw them in the lobby the other day," she smiled, remembering how the little boy had rushed so excitedly over to Horatio and exclaimed _'I'm gonna have sisters!'_ loud enough so that half the county could hear.

"Oh," Ryan frowned. "That kind of dampens my clairvoyant theory."

Calleigh ran into her boss on the way out of the ladies room. She popped a piece of gum in her mouth and gave him a smile. "Hey there, handsome."

"Feeling any better?"

She made a face. "Momentarily."

"So Lucas wants sisters, hmm?" Horatio asked, a grin working its way onto his face.

"That's what he says," she smiled.

"Any preference?"

Calleigh looked at him for a moment. "An end to this morning sickness that can't tell time," she joked, tucking her hair behind her ears.

He gave her another smile. "You know, Calleigh," he began delicately. "I don't think anyone would think any less of you if you were a little bit excited."

She blinked. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good," he gave a nod and continued on in the opposite direction. "Oh," he stopped and addressed her again. "I'm putting you on desk duty starting May first."

"You're what?"

"You're not going into labor at a scene, ma'am. And that's final."

She scoffed. "And why are you telling me this now?"

"I'm telling you this now," he paused, "so you'll have four months to be mad at me."

Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Good thinking."

"That's why I'm still in charge."

**0x0x0**

It was later in the week that Calleigh set the cordless phone down on the counter and made her way back to the living room. "That was weird," she stated plainly.

Eric looked up from the classifieds. "What was weird?"

"That was about the sixth hang up we've gotten today," she quirked a playful eyebrow. "You got a girlfriend I don't know about, Delko?"

He scoffed. "Like I've got time. Plus," he looked over as she dropped to the couch. "Whoever it was did the same thing yesterday—I just assumed your boyfriend didn't want to talk to me."

"Oh which boyfriend?" Calleigh gave a joking heavy sigh. "There's too many to keep track." She watched him smile and shake his head. "How's the house hunting coming?"

"Well," he scrutinized the buyer's guide. "This one's perfect—four bedroom, two and a half bath, central air, hardwood floors, fenced in yard, in-ground pool…"

"What's the catch?"

"We'd probably have to sell Lucas."

Calleigh's shoulders slumped. "He's a good kid—how much you think we'd get for him?"

Eric laughed. "Here's another one—three bedrooms, one and half bath—"

"Have we decided what we need yet? Are we looking for three bedrooms or four?"

"I don't know, Cal, you tell me."

She sat back on the couch and rested her hands on her flat stomach. "Well, we could go for three and hope we end up with two-of-a-kind."

He smiled. "Yeah, but eventually…three kids? They're all going to need their own rooms."

Calleigh raised an eyebrow. "Need? I think need might be a little strong of a word."

"All right, they're all going to want their own rooms and you and I are going to need a cure for the migraines they're going to cause us."

His wife echoed his smile. "Wait, let's think about this. Lucas is seven now—he'll be eight by the time these babies get here." Her eyes darted upward as she considered things. "That means by the time he's ready to go to college the twins will only be ten. They could share a room until they're ten."

Eric suddenly looked depressed. "I don't want to think about Lucas going to college."

"Which explains the University of Miami sweatshirt he's had since he was three?"

"Gotta represent."

Calleigh laughed and leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, let's just look and see what's in our price range. If worst comes to worst, we'll just…move again," she said, already looking exhausted at the idea.

The phone rang again. Eric grabbed the nearest cordless. "Go away!" he barked as it rang again. His eyes fell to the caller display. "Oh, it's your parents."

Calleigh rolled her eyes and took the phone from him. "They average six days to return a call and _I'm_ the wayward daughter?"

He laughed as she got up and meandered back into the kitchen before answering. Calleigh's relationship with her parents was something of a tragic farce. He was infinitely glad when she'd taken to his family so well; it had always made him a little sad that she didn't come from the same warm and loving atmosphere that he had. Eric stood and stretched, abandoning the house search momentarily. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the mantle and the pictures they'd framed there. There were several of family members, all of the Delko grandchildren together, Calleigh's parents with Lucas, one of his favorites—of himself and Calleigh, the latter with a two-year old Lucas on her hip and the former proudly holding up the formal adoption papers, both of them wearing too much happiness for the big smiles on their faces. Next to that one, he smiled with a shake of his head, was another good one. An action shot of himself and Ryan, taken from a distance while the two stared down a game of pool. Eric remembered that night well; they may have looked caught up in the billiards, but the conversation had been somewhat less sporting.

_"Delko, I've gotta ask you something—married man to married man," Ryan stated plainly, eyeing up a shot._

_"Go for it."_

_"Is it true what everyone says? That as soon as you get married, every other woman in the world finds you attractive all of a sudden?"_

_Eric laughed and shook his head. "No, of course not."_

_Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. I was worried I was just being paranoid."_

_"I wasn't finished," Eric interrupted. "The rumor you're talking about? It's true, but it only applies to the women you always wanted to sleep with."_

_His partner looked forlorn. "Why aren't you joking right now?"_

_Eric shrugged with a resigned sigh. "I'm just being honest."_

_"Why didn't it happen before?" he whined._

_"Because you weren't married before. You weren't unattainable."_

_"I don't think it has anything to do with me."_

_"Fine," he agreed. "_They_ weren't unattainable before."_

_Ryan looked thoughtful for a moment. "And if I were single…" he reasoned aloud. "They wouldn't want me, would they?"_

_"No," Eric shook his head. "They wouldn't."_

"Women!" Ryan exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

_Eric clapped him on the back with a shake of his head. "Welcome to married life, man."_

Back in his living room, Eric smiled and replaced the picture on the mantle. He turned with regret back to the buyers guide and groaned inwardly at the thought of having to comb through more houses they couldn't afford. Just as he reached for the marker, however, his cell phone rang, buzzing loudly against the coffee table. Eric checked the display, his brow knit tightly together.

"Alexx?" he asked, flipping the phone open.

"Hey, Eric. I'm sorry to call so late, honey, but I got stuck here at work doing one last post for the night."

"It's all right," he glanced at the clock—only ten. "We're still up. What's going on?"

"Well, baby," Alexx hesitated. "I don't know how to say this."

"What is it?"

"My vic? She was in a single-vehicle accident—ran her car right into a tree, poor thing."

She was stalling; Eric felt himself growing impatient. "Alexx, why are you calling to tell me about this woman?"

"Eric, the victim's name is Rosha Ortiz," Alexx said finally.

Eric felt his stomach plummet at the sound of her name. Rosha, Lucas' biological mother who had abandoned him at a mere two days old. Rosha, who had signed away her parental rights with a pink sheet of notebook paper that read '_I have faith in you'._ Rosha, who was apparently dead now and lying on Alexx's table after running her car into a tree.

"Oh," he managed after a few moments. "I uh…I see."

"Eric," Alexx started again. "It's not just that. There's something that I think you need to see."

"What is it?"

"I know I should go straight to Horatio about this…and I'm going to," she added quickly. "But I really think you need to come down here first."

Eric sighed and looked into the kitchen at Calleigh, still chattering merrily to her father. He ran a hand over his hair. "Yeah," he said finally. "I'm on my way."

* * *

AN: Okay, I know there was no RaVe in this chapter, but the last chapter was kind of all them and I needed to have this to set up the major arc of the story. They'll be more prominent in the next chapter, as well as more about Katie and what happened. No worries. This was just a major filler to set things up for next chapter. Stay with me, friends, I'm almost 90 percent sure I know what I'm doing! Leave me some love to prove you haven't abandoned me?


	6. Chapter Five

AN: My updating is not what it once was. This is a much harder story to write, though, in comparison to Telling Jokes because there's not much happiness. And you know me—I'm the mayor of Fluff Town. Anyway, I dedicate this chapter to the zen who summed up our lives perfectly when she said, "We have got to take fanfiction more seriously than anyone ever. Most people just write porn…we _stress _over it CONSTANTLY." She's correct. It happens. Anywhozlebees, read on, lovers. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Maxine looked up at the television, surprised to find the credits rolling on the movie she'd been watching. Well, watching was more of a relative term—it had been background noise while she'd stared into space for a solid three hours. She blinked a few times and shut it off, suddenly preferring the silence.

On the coffee table, under a new batch of Netflicks and several unpaid bills, was the paper from a week ago. It was folded neatly, as though it had just arrived—the front page screaming some groundbreaking story about the upcoming mayoral election. At first glance, one wouldn't think that her daughter's picture was buried under three pages of newsprint. Smiling up at her like the last time she saw her—big dark eyes and thick, bed-tangled ponytail. The ponytail in the picture wasn't tangled, of course, the papers had chosen a nice one—the one they'd blown up and displayed at the funeral.

She leaned back and sank into the pillows, attempting to push all thoughts of Katie from her mind. It worked for a moment until she realized it was thoughts of Ryan that had chased the others away. Maxine sighed and ran a hand over her face—the meeting at the cemetery had been a disaster. An unplanned disaster—as most were—but a disaster nonetheless.

"I miss us?" she said aloud to the empty apartment. "Why did I say that?"

But she knew why. She'd said it because it was true. Because she missed the comfort of being around him, like slipping into an old t-shirt. Warm, reliable, uncomplicated. The feel of his fingers entwined in hers—like they were meant to be there; like God had designed her hands to fit just right with his. She found herself missing the strangest things: the absentminded toying he would do with a lock of her hair, coffee being made in the morning when she came downstairs, the comfortable silences that interspersed their moments alone together.

Her eyes fell to the paper again. It was the little moments she missed the most. Moments that she knew would never—could never happen again. Not after what had happened.

_She had been waiting up when he came home that night. Partly because she couldn't sleep, partly because she was worried about him, partly because she was so angry she could kill him. _

_"Nice of you to call," she said quietly after watching him shrug out of his coat._

_"I figured you'd be asleep."_

_"I'm not."_

_"I can see that," he said in a clipped tone. "Good night."_

_She scoffed and got to her feet. "Your concern for anyone else's feelings is inspiring, Ryan. Really, you ought to be proud."_

_He grabbed her arm as she attempted to brush past him. "Max," his voice was soft. "Don't do this."_

_"Don't _do _this?" she repeated, yanking out of his grasp. "Don't do what?"_

_"I don't…I don't know what to do, Maxine," his voice had taken a harsh edge. "Tell me what you want me to do—tell me what to say because I'm lost. I don't know how to fix this."_

_She could feel her eyes narrowing. "You can't fix it, Ryan. There's no _fixing_ what happened. We can't forget it or get past it or make it go away. And I don't know what you want me to tell you…" she shook her head and stalked to the other side of the living room. "You're lost? You're lost and I'm supposed to feel sorry for you?"_

_Her anger had been building through months of silent treatment and failed support groups, over countless dinners spent alone and a few therapy sessions so futile it was laughable._

_"Feel sorry for me?" he repeated incredulously. "I'm not asking for your sympathy, Maxine. We're in this together—or did you forget?"_

_"I didn't forget anything," she snapped, feeling her grip on her control slipping. "I didn't forget that when I left her with you that day she was perfectly fine and when I came home she…"_

_With the widening of Ryan's eyes, she knew she'd gone too far. The unspoken accusation hung between them, dissolving any chance of reconciliation like a venomous acid._

_It was the only time in her life she wished he had hit her. Wished he'd slapped her across the face like she deserved. But he'd only set his mouth into a hard line, a deadened glaze rolling over his eyes. "I'm glad I know how you really feel, Maxine," he'd said so quietly she'd barely heard him. _

_The door slammed with such force that it knocked a picture off the wall, shattering the frame into a million pieces. As she bent to pick them up, she cut herself on a shard of glass; the sight of the blood and sting of the cut finally brought the swallowed tears to her eyes. She sat there, by the door, sobbing for what felt like hours, waiting for him to return. _

_When he came back, she told herself, rocking back and forth, she would apologize. They would start over. Just as soon as he came back._

Reliving their last fight nearly drove the tears to her eyes again. Max shook her head and checked the clock. It was still early, she rationalized, reaching for the phone and dialing a familiar number.

0x0x0

Calleigh let out a mighty yawn as she hung up the phone and stared at the clock. Where was Eric? He'd left over an hour ago, yelling something about Alexx and the lab, she hadn't heard him over her mother's squawking about morning sickness cures and badgering over whether she was going to breast feed.

She dropped her head into her arms and allowed her thoughts to drift back to Maxine, with whom she'd just gone six rounds in the ring over whether or not to give talking to Ryan another chance.

"He hates me," she'd argued stubbornly.

"You know that's not true," Calleigh had told her patiently. "He said so himself."

"No, he said he _missed_ me. There's a difference."

"Regardless—"

"And if he doesn't hate me, he should. I would hate me," she paused. "I do hate me, actually."

"Maybe he figures you've got it taken care of," Cal guessed. "It lets him off the hook."

She heard Maxine smile into the phone. "You're an eternal optimist, you know that?"

"It's my curse."

Her friend sighed. "I'm sorry to be beating a dead horse, here. You've got bigger things to worry about than fixing my relationship with Ryan."

"Yeah," Calleigh agreed. "Like finding a way to afford a bigger house, find one, buy it, move in, and furnish a nursery for two all before I'm too big to get around." The mention of size reminded her of the elastic of her bra which was unpleasantly cutting into her skin.

"Like I said—bigger things."

"Well forget about all that. If you need to talk, just call, all right?"

"I promise."

"Or," Calleigh added, "just come over. I miss seeing you every day."

"How's my replacement?"

"Snippy. She doesn't like when I hover."

"Calleigh," Maxine reminded, "nobody likes when you hover."

"At least you used to tolerate it."

The smile she'd heard before grew into a laugh. "Let's have lunch sometime this week. We can catch up."

Calleigh adjusted her undergarments again. There was no getting mistaking—she was going to have to buy a few new bras at the very least. "Can we add shopping to that?"

"Is that even a question? How does Saturday work?"

She glanced at the calendar. "I'm off—Lucas has swim team practice but that's not until four."

"We can be back by then," Maxine promised. "I'll give you a call later on."

She had just hung up, vowing not to answer again unless the display said Eric when the shuffle of feet on the linoleum gave her cause to turn around.

Lucas stood in the doorway in his pajamas, squinting in the bright kitchen light. She smiled. "And why are you out of bed, mister?"

"I couldn't sleep; my throat feels scratchy," he rubbed at his neck for effect. "Can I have a popsicle?"

Calleigh motioned to the barstools. "Just eat it down here, okay?"

He nodded an agreement and watched his mother open the freezer. "Do we have any cherry left?"

She checked the box. "I don't think so. Can I interest you in grape instead?" At the face Lucas pulled she examined her options again. "How about orange?"

"Orange is good."

The popsicle finished and the stickiness wiped from his face, Lucas was returned to his bed. Calleigh pulled the covers up to his chin. "Arms in or out?"

"Out!" he rested them atop the covers as she tucked them tightly around him. "Nice and tight, Mom."

"If they get any tighter we're not going to be able to get you out in morning," she perched on the edge of his bed and kissed his forehead. "Snug as a bug in a rug."

"Goodnight, Mom."

"Did you say your prayers?" she asked, leaning over to turn off the bedside lamp.

Lucas nodded. "Oh," he remembered after a moment. "I forgot to say goodnight."

"Well lucky for you," she brushed a stray curl away from his eyes, "Heaven is always open. Say goodnight and get some sleep, okay?"

She was pulling the door shut as she heard him say, "Goodnight Uncle Speed, goodnight Aunt Marisol, goodnight Katie."

Lucas had always loved the stories Calleigh told about Speed the best—never being one for fairy tales, when her son had begged for stories, she chose to tell him the true life chronicles of the adventures she and Eric had had with their best friend. Marisol lived on through the stories Eric would relay about his childhood and through the dozens of pictures scattered around the house. Since he was old enough to pray, Lucas had not gone a night without saying goodnight to both of them.

But at the mention of Katie, Calleigh felt her heart skip a beat—as well adjusted as he was, it was often easy to forget how affected Lucas had been by Katie's death.

It had taken weeks to get him to talk about it. He'd gone to the counselor at his school, been talked to by the family doctor, nothing seemed to penetrate his resolution not to discuss what had happened.

_More than a month had passed before Eric had stumbled upon his five year-old's sense of grief. _

_"Hey, buddy," he called down the hallway. "Come on, let's go you're going to be…" Eric stopped upon entering the room and took in the disaster that had taken place. "Whoa. What happened here?"_

_His toys had been thrown all over the room, the art easel had been kicked over, the covers thrown off the bed, his Transformers poster yanked down from the wall. Lucas was sitting on the edge of his bed, swinging his feet back and forth angrily. "Nothing," he growled, teeth clenched, jaw jutting out._

_Eric glanced around at the mess. "It's a big mess for nothing—you throw a party without us knowing?"_

_"No," Lucas muttered, not raising his eyes from his swinging feet._

_"Everything okay?" he asked, kicking aside a few action figures to make his way to the bed._

_"I'm fine."  
"You don't look fine and," he motioned to the war zone, "neither does your room. I'll help you clean if you tell me what's up."_

_"Nothing's up," Lucas insisted, shoving himself off the bed. He made his way over to an untouched bin of matchbox cars and threw a handful to the ground._

_"Hey," Eric jumped up and took the box from him. "You can rant and rage all you want," he warned. "But do it while you're cleaning up—you're not making any more of a mess." He watched while his son digested this order. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"_

_"I'm just angry, okay?"_

_"What are you angry about?"_

_"I'm angry about…" Lucas' jaw had stopped jutting so severely. "I'm mad because…" he took a deep breath as a pair of fat tears spilled over his eyes. "I miss Katie!" he wailed, throwing himself into Eric's arms and sobbing._

_"Okay, buddy," Eric said, feeling at a loss as he stroked his son's hair. "I know you do…I know. I miss Katie too."_

_Calleigh had watched them from the doorway, tears of her own threatening to overflow._

She looked at her watch and made her way down the hall to their bedroom. After she'd changed into pajamas and crawled under the covers, Calleigh reached for her cell phone and checked the display—still no call from Eric. Where could he be?

0x0x0

Eric was staring incredulously at Alexx in her office. "So this is a murder, then? Not a car accident?"

Alexx moved her hands as she spoke. "I gave my findings to the night shift—if they think it's enough to investigate, I guess they'll investigate."

He scoffed. "This might be a little bit more than enough to investigate."

"I told you," she sighed. "I'm going to call Horatio as soon as we're finished here."

"Alexx, this isn't just a murder—it's a threat. A threat on me."

"Baby, I know. That's why I called you first."

His eyes fell to her findings that lay between them on the table. Alexx had begun talking the moment he'd arrived, telling him about her post and other findings and how everything had seemed perfectly normal.

"So why am I here?" he asked again, thinking of the warm bed he'd much rather be crawling into.

"Rosha had a C-section with Lucas, didn't she?"

Surprised by the question, Eric dropped his eyes and thought. "Yeah, I think so."

"You think? Or you know?"

"No," he replied. "She did, I remember…why?"

"Well," Alexx's tone got evasive again. "Her incision was split open when they pulled her from the car—not something that usually happens but with enough trauma it's not unheard of. Especially if her doctor did a shoddy job of closing it up—incisions can open up unexpectedly for years."

"Okay…? So her incision was split…" he raised eyebrows and gave her a nonverbal prodding to continue. "What about it?"

"No one noticed anything at the scene," she recalled, moving behind her desk. "But as soon as I made my first cut, I saw this." She placed a surgical steel bowl between them. Inside was a blood-soaked plastic bag.

"What is that?"

"It's what whoever put it there used to make sure this wouldn't be ruined." Alexx quickly snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and offered him a set before she produced a folded piece of paper and handed it to him.

"This is for me?"

"Read it, baby."

_Do you think this is how she felt? When she awoke to find they'd taken her son from inside of her? This loss, this pain, this rattling emptiness? Do you think this is how she felt when she gave him away, claiming you could give him a better life? Do you think it haunted her every moment of every day as it haunts me? Waiting for the day your child will return to you? Knowing that he never will._

_You don't know what that's like. But you will. You and your perfect family will know exactly what it's like._

His hands were shaking when he put it down. "What the hell is this?"

"I don't know, honey," Alexx said honestly with a shake of her head. "But if I were you, I'd be careful."

* * *

AN: Dun dun dun. Sorry that this was so flashback-laden, there's really no other way to tell the back story. Here's hoping I can find something to write for the next chapter. Leave me love and PMs of anything in particular you'd like to see happen be it in terms of flashbacks, current things, family outings…whatever. Love you all! Kiss kiss!


	7. Chapter Six

AN: ((wince)) I'm sorry this took so long. School has begun once again (last semester of undergrad—woo!) which means I'm super-duper busy. Just ask the zen, I've been stressing over this chapter for a solid month. I hope you enjoy and that I haven't lost you.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

It hadn't been a conscious decision to keep the note a secret. Eric had driven home that night with every intention of telling Calleigh the second he walked through the door. He didn't want to…not really. He didn't want to have to tell her that their son's life had just been threatened, didn't want to have to discuss taking extra measures of security just to allow Lucas to carry on like a normal kid, didn't even want to go into work tomorrow and have to deal with the forensic side of things. He had always—for the most part—been pretty good about keeping his work and home life separate. Amid the fear and anger bubbling within his chest, there was the tiniest vein of irritation that now that streak would have to be broken.

These thoughts were whirling around in his head as he made his way home. It wasn't until he had locked the front door behind him and an unexpected silence washed over him that Eric recognized that his meeting with Alexx must have taken longer than he'd realized. His family had already gone to sleep.

He stopped at Lucas' room on the way to his own. His son was wrapped tightly in his orange and green sheets, curled in a ball, mouth hanging slightly open. Eric pushed open the door and made his way silently inside; he perched on the edge of the bed and brushed the boy's curls to the side. Gently, he pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'm never going to let anything happen to you," he promised in a whisper.

Lucas snuggled further into his blankets. "Okay, Daddy," he answered in a sleep-clogged mutter. Eric smiled despite the evening and made his way down the hall to where Calleigh had fallen asleep waiting for him.

She stirred as he climbed into bed and wrapped an arm around her. "Everything okay?" she asked softly, not opening her eyes. She cuddled into him while he got comfortable.

"Yeah," he whispered before he could stop himself. He kissed her cheek and held her tightly. "Everything's okay. Go back to sleep."

She was already there before his sentence was complete, her breath blowing across his chest in a steady rhythm through her open mouth. Eric lay awake, listening to the silence, tensing with every noise the house made, until the morning sun finally filtered in through the curtains.

0x0x0

Horatio regarded his brother-in-law with a curious gaze. After a few moments, Eric himself growing uncomfortable. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "H, I don't want to put you in the middle of this…" he looked down for a moment. "But you know I wouldn't ask if I didn't need your help."

Horatio rested his hands on his hips and tilted his head slightly. "Eric, you know that Lucas is my family too—I'm going to do everything I can to make sure nothing happens to him." He stopped and shifted his own weight. "But I'm not sure that keeping this from Calleigh is a wise course of action."

"I just," Eric fought the urge to squirm. "She's got enough to worry about right now without adding this to the mix. I'm going to tell her," he promised. "Eventually. I just haven't figured out how."

His boss digested this with a slow nod of understanding. "You know that I trust you, Eric. But so does Calleigh—don't wait too long before letting her know."

Eric breathed a sigh of relief. "I know. I don't like keeping anything from her but…" he shook his head. "I just need a little more information. Do we have anything?"

"Well it's not our case to begin with. The night shift was on when the call came in. They processed the scene, the car, Rosha's body…it's their case. I'm not sure how happy they would be to share information."

"H, please," Eric hated the desperation that had slithered into his voice. "You've gotta keep me in the loop."

Horatio nodded again. "I'll do what I can, Eric. For right now I think we need to focus on putting Lucas under pretty tight security. Have you spoken with his school yet?"

"No," he shook his head. "They're closed today—some in-service thing. He's with my mom."

"First thing tomorrow I'll have Jeffries from nights go over and talk to the principal about the situation. Maybe patrol can spare an extra body for a few weeks while we get everything figured out. In the meantime, you might want to draw up a list of enemies. We've got no suspects and all we know is that whoever wrote that letter isn't afraid to kill and is not very fond of you."

Eric sighed. "A list of enemies. Do I include everyone I put in jail in the last fifteen years?"

Horatio noted the sarcasm and placed a hand on the shoulder of his friend. "We'll find out who did this, Eric. You have my word."

0x0x0

Two weeks flew by more quickly than expected and by February, there was no denying that Calleigh was pregnant. And if a tiny detail like that had become so obvious, Eric's strange behavior certainly wasn't missed.

She had noticed it almost immediately—the edginess, the jumpiness, the seizing of his cell phone every time it gave even the slightest jingle. She hadn't said anything at first, chalking it up to an unusual bout of paranoia. It was the job, she reasoned, and the stress of buying a new house. Unusual, but not something to worry about.

It wasn't until one morning while she waited for him to walk Lucas to the bus stop that Calleigh really began to wonder about her husband. She watched them walk down to the corner as the familiar yellow bus approached. She watched as Lucas boarded the bus with a wave over his shoulder…and then watched with confusion as Eric followed their son onto the vehicle and return with him to the sidewalk. "I'll just drive him today," Eric yelled over the drone of the engine. "Thanks, though!"

Calleigh, who had been just about to get behind the wheel of her own car, paused and shot the duo an inquisitive look as they approached. "What was that about?"

Eric looked momentarily panicked before Lucas gave him a look of confusion as well. "Yeah, Dad…why did you take me off the bus?"

"There was a kid in the first row," he shrugged, not quite achieving carelessness. "It looked like he had pink eye—Luke's having enough trouble with his eyes without getting that again."

"I wasn't going to sit with him anyway," Lucas grumbled. "I don't even know that kid. And I _don't need glasses._"

Calleigh ignored her son's whining; her own eyes squinted at Eric. "How could you tell from the sidewalk?"

Eric shrugged again. "Call it paternal instinct. Come on," he tapped his watch. "We've gotta go—we're all going to be late." He opened the back door for Lucas and handed him his backpack. "And you might need glasses, bud. Might as well get used to it."

Calleigh started the car and pulled out of the driveway. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, repeating the question she'd been asking herself a lot lately.

"What?" Eric jumped noticeably at the question. "Yeah…I'm fine."

"Then why couldn't I ride the bus?" Lucas asked from the back seat.

"I told you," his father answered without turning around. "Pink eye."

"If I had pink eye I wouldn't have to even go to stupid school," came the grumbled reply.

"Or swimming," Calleigh reminded. "Or soccer."

The rest of the drive to school was made without argument. Calleigh didn't broach the topic of her husband's sanity again and took the first callout with Natalia when they arrived at CSI. Eric, feeling like a thoroughly harassed suspect, dropped onto the couch in the break room while the coffee brewed and covered his face with his hands.

"You look like shit," Ryan said by way of greeting, tossing his lunch into the refrigerator.

"Thanks, Wolfe."

"What's up?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Is this the big secret you're keeping from Calleigh that's making you look like this?"

Eric's head shot up. "What secret? I'm not keeping anything from Calleigh—what are you talking about?"

Ryan's eyebrows spiked toward his hairline. "Calm down, Delko. I'm not accusing you of anything—I just overheard Calleigh and Natalia yesterday, that's all."

"What were they saying?"

"Just that Cal feels like there's something going on that you're not telling her…which there obviously is."

"No there's—"

Ryan held up a hand. "You might be one of the worst liar's I've ever met—just saying." He offered a matter-of-fact look. "Whatever you're going through, get through it fast. And don't lie to your wife…she's a lot smarter than you."

Eric shot him a look.

"I'm just saying," Ryan added quickly, before heading toward the door. "By the way," he reached into his jacket pocket and produced a long white envelope. "This was waiting for you at reception."

Eric turned it over in his hands. "No return address," he murmured to himself. "Did they say who sent it?"

"Nope," Ryan shrugged. "But it was addressed to you, care of here. I said I'd drop it off. I'll see you over in trace."

"Yeah, thanks," Eric said, sliding a finger under the seal and tearing the envelope. He pulled out a stack of paper that had been stapled and folded in thirds to fit. Curiosity rising, he unfolded and studied them.

He was looking at a court reporter's transcribed witness testimony. The questions had been blotted out with heavy black marker—only the witness' statement remained. The statement, he quickly realized, was his. The memory of that day in sentencing court slammed viciously into him.

_"Mr. Delko," the attorney—a middle-aged woman with wide hips and dark blonde hair, approached the stand. "In your professional opinion, did the victims appear to have been selected at random?"_

_Eric shifted in his seat. "No," he affirmed after a hard swallow. "We found evidence that each of the victims had been chosen carefully and had been stalked for weeks before being attacked. I don't believe that the defendant was ever unaware of what he was doing."_

_The attorney tilted her head thoughtfully. "And Mr. Delko, if it were up to you, would you recommend Mr. Wacops as a candidate for the state hospital?"_

_"Absolutely not."_

_She smiled. "Thank you for your testimony."_

Eric flipped mindlessly through the transcription until he came to the last page. In the same crude black marker was one word.

_Soon._

* * *

AN: ((wince again)) It should be longer, I know. After all that, it should definitely be longer. But I got inspired and this seems like a good stopping point for now. Plus, you know how I love to keep you guys on your toes. Leave me some love, please, it's the only way to guarantee an update before Christmas. (No, I'm probably not serious…but my car got wrecked last night and I need a bit of cheering.) Love you!! Oh...and the scene with the bus (not the pink eye) is from some movie which I cannot not remember now to save my life. Oh well. Thanks, nameless movie, for that spot of inspiration.


	8. Chapter Seven

AN: Here is where I plead once again not to lose faith in me. It's my last semester of undergrad so most of my free time is going toward a.) passing my classes, and b.) trying to fluff up my resume/portfolio and hopefully get a job. However, I got my wisdom teeth taken out yesterday and am not allowed to do anything but chill out for the next few days. As such, I was awoken in the middle of the night by a horrific pain as my meds have stopped working. So, while I wait for my Vics to kick in, I figured I'd work a bit on my baby. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Eric felt the papers he was holding fall from his hands as they began to shake. _Soon. _The word shouted off the page at him, echoes of it whispering through his mind. He picked the threat up after a moment and flipped to the second-to-last page. _Mr. Wacops._ Joseph Wacops—the guy who had killed Katie.

He certainly had motive to want Eric dead—after all, it was his testimony that had put him away for life. Wacops was certainly unhinged enough to threaten someone this way. If there was one thing to be grateful about this time, it was that this particular warning hadn't come attached to a dead body.

Eric stood and refolded the papers, stuffing them into the envelope and the whole package into his back pocket. He was about to and find Horatio, when a recent headline shot through is memory.

Wacops was dead. He'd been killed in prison. Eric struggled to remember, had all of this started before or after that? He took out the printed testimony and read it over again. In his mind, he looked past the attorney, past Wacops at the defense table, and over to the side of the prosecution, where Wolfe had been standing in the back. His arms had been crossed over his chest, Calleigh's small hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. Eric remembered, when the sentence had been read, he had turned around just in time to catch the small, grateful smile Ryan had shot his way.

The memory of that smile forced Eric to his feet and sent him, not to find Horatio, but to trace. To someone who deserved to know what was going on.

Wolfe nearly dropped the microscope he'd been using to scrutinize bed linens. "Did you just say Wacops?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

"I don't know what's going on," Eric admitted. "But it's definitely got something to do with him."

"He's dead, Delko—how could it have anything to do with him?"

Eric swallowed hard, rethinking his rash judgment. Work wasn't the place to have brought this up. "I know that, Wolfe. But I'm telling you what I know and that's that it's either got something to do with him or someone wants me to think it's got something to do with him."

Wolfe, his mouth set in a hard line, held out his hand. "Give it to me."

"What?"

"Give me the goddamn papers and we'll settle this right now."

Eric handed them over and followed reluctantly to Fingerprints where he watched Ryan's futile effort to dust. "Wolfe, I don't think you're going to find anything."

"Seeing a lot of yours," he grumbled, almost to himself. "Guess it's too much to ask that you wear gloves when you're handling evidence."

"I didn't realize it was evidence until it was already handled." He ran a hand through his hair. "He didn't leave any the last time."

"The last time?" Wolfe stood abruptly and set to work lifting the prints he'd uncovered. "How long has this been going on? And did it ever occur to you that I might not be the best person to come running to with this?"

"Look, I'm going to tell Calleigh. I just thought—"

"You just thought what? That by ignoring it, you'd make it go away?"

"I just thought you'd want to know, Wolfe."

"Calleigh wants to know," Ryan shut him down quickly. "Calleigh's been going crazy the last few weeks trying to figure out what the hell's going on with you and you've been hiding something like this?" He shook his head as he scanned the prints into the computer. "This isn't just about you, Delko—this is about your whole family. And if you don't smarten up, you're going to lose them just like…" Ryan's eyes dropped to the keyboard.

They both fell quiet until a beeping issued from the monitor. "They're mine," Eric said quietly. "He didn't leave any prints the last time either."

Ryan nodded. "Well you've got me on board, Delko—whatever you need."

They looked at one another for a long time. "I didn't mean for this…"

"Talk to your wife, man," he handed him back the packet of papers. "Before it's too late."

"Yeah," Eric tucked them into his back pocket. "I'm gonna get back over to trace—I'll finish up those sheets."

"I'll be over in a minute." Ryan watched his friend retreat, guilt for snapping seeping through him slowly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and willed away the memories that were surfacing.

_Maxine's eyes were red-rimmed from unshed tears, her fingers zipping her diamond charm along its chain. She stood up as he entered the room. "Ryan they're not…" she motioned helplessly to the autopsy room. "They won't tell me anything."_

_He placed a hand on either of her quivering shoulders. "Max…Eric said…"_

_"I _know _what Eric said," she squeaked. "But I mean…he could be wrong…right?" Any control she'd had over her voice began to falter once again. "He could be wrong—have you seen her?"_

_"No," Ryan felt nearly too exhausted to shake his head. "I haven't."_

_"Then…then it could not be her, right?" Maxine's eyes welled up again. "Eric could've been wrong—she could still be out there—waiting for us…"_

_Unable to watch her fall apart any longer, Ryan pulled her close and shut his eyes tightly while her tears stained the collar of his shirt. "She's not, Max," he pushed the words up from his throat. "She's gone."_

Ryan looked at the computer screen in front of him, closing out the print scan, a sense of determination bubbling in his stomach. He might have lost his family to Joseph Wacops, but he'd be damned if the same thing happened to his best friends.

**0x0x0**

Although Eric had intended to wait for Calleigh's return, pull her outside and unburden himself, the opportunity did not arise. He was dispatched to a domestic dispute-turned homicide before she and Natalia returned from their scene. They found themselves on opposite sides of the lab for most of the day. He was signing off on his last report of the day when Eric felt a familiar brush of fingers flutter against the back of his neck.

"Hey there, good lookin'," Calleigh came around and perched herself against his desk.

"Hey yourself," he smiled up at her and capped his pen. "Feeling okay?"

She rested a hand on the beginnings of her belly. "So far so good," she smiled, a golden lock falling into her face as she stole a quick glance downward.

"You all done for the day?"

Calleigh nodded. "And so are you," she stood and moved behind him, squeezing some of the tension from his shoulders. "I'm taking you out for dinner, big guy."

Eric smiled and leaned back against her. "Aren't I supposed to be the one pampering you these days?"

He heard her grin. "And here I thought you'd never ask. C'mon—let's go."

"Cal, what happened to penny-pinching?" Eric allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"We have no food in the house," Calleigh began listing things on her free hand. "Payday isn't until Friday, and we," she wrapped his arms around her and rested their hands on her abdomen, "feel like treating you to a Dollar Menu feast."

Eric laughed and spun her back to face him. "Dollar Menu, huh? Since when do you want to eat that crap?"

She shrugged. "I've given up control of my appetite—I'm just happy I can keep food down again."

"What about the kid?"

"Taken care of," she smiled up at him. "He's with your mom until later—she said she'd drive him to soccer when she takes Ana to dance."

"What a woman," Eric commented with a shake of his head. They were on their way to the car when he stopped her again. "You called my mom and made sure Lucas got there after school, right?"

Her brow furrowed. "Of course I did. Everything's fine."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." She fastened him with a look. "Are you sure everything's fine?"

Eric felt his shoulders drop with the weight of the last few days. "No, Cal—it's not. I've got to talk to you."

Calleigh nodded, the slightest look of relief passing through her eyes. "I was hoping you would say that." She jingled her keys. "Come on, we'll load up on grease and then you can tell me what's going on."

The simple admission of the problem was almost enough to clear away the tension while they went through the drive-thru and ordered burgers and fries, talking about their work day, stealing bites of one another's food. It almost reminded him of the old days. Suddenly, Eric felt incredibly stupid for keeping these threats a secret. This was _Calleigh. _Who had been his best friend before she'd been anything else. Calleigh who he shared his life and his son with—who was bringing two new babies into their lives, regardless of what else was going on. Ryan and Horatio had been right—she deserved to know.

He was summoning his courage to tell her everything—start fresh, from the beginning—when the pulled onto their street.

He heard the sirens first. Police sirens. And then the fire trucks—still coming from a few blocks away, despite the engine that had parked in front of the house.

Calleigh's hands had come off the wheel and were cupped around her mouth in shock. She stared at the townhouse for a few long moments before she turned to Eric. "I believe there was something you needed to tell me?"

And any other thoughts Eric might have had were dissolved as he realized that the patrol cars and the fire engine had parked in front of his house.

His house.

Engulfed in flames.

* * *

AN: Dun dun dun. I don't know...this looks a lot longer in my Word Processor than it does on here...really sorry about that. But I felt it was a good stopping point, yeah? I fear I may have lost some of you in my lack of updates…I hope that's not true. You know you have my eternal love—may I have a bit of the same?


	9. Chapter Eight

**AN**: You're lovely. The end. And my teeth have completely healed, thanks to your love and support. I'm serious—that's what did it. Enjoy!!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

The fire had not completely taken the house. It had done its damage, it had made the house unlivable, but it hadn't completely destroyed everything.

According to the fire marshal, the fire had been started in the back of the house—caused by a homemade firebomb thrown in through the back window. They had recovered the remains and shown it to Eric—the blackened bottom of a glass bottle. The most likely course of action was that it had been filled with lighter fluid, stuffed with a rag and set ablaze. Eric felt his heart clench. Someone had thrown that into his house.

Into Lucas' bedroom.

A neighbor had heard the noise when the window was broken, seen the fire and had immediately called for help. She was standing near the curb with wide, frightened eyes as the scene was taped off. Calleigh approached and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Mrs. Boyle?"

The older woman turned and sagged with relief. She threw her arms around Calleigh and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Calleigh! I was so worried!" she exclaimed. "I just had to make sure you and Eric and your babies were all okay." She pulled away and looked Calleigh over. "You are okay, aren't you?"

Calleigh nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear. "We're okay. Lucas is at my mother-in-law's and Eric and I were on our way home from work." She looked over toward the charred, steaming framework. "Thank God you were home. Who knows how out of hand it could have gotten."

"Well I'm just glad everyone's okay," Mrs. Boyle said again, rubbing Calleigh's arm supportively.

Calleigh found her eyes wandering from the ruined house to the cluster of fire fighters where Eric stood, alternating between speaking with them and talking into his cell phone. "Yeah," she said softly. "Everyone's okay."

**0x0x0**

They took the essentials in a large black suitcase and drove in silence across town to Chlorinda and Pavel's, where Lucas was waiting tearfully on the doorstep.

"Did somebody burn down our house?" he asked, his full lower lip quivering uncontrollably.

Calleigh exchanged a look with Eric before taking the child in her arms. "No, sweetheart," she lied softly. "It was just an accident. Accidents happen all the time, right?"

She felt him nod against her. "Are you and Daddy okay?" he asked, his voice still trembling.

"We're fine, buddy," Eric patted his head. "You can check us out for yourself." He waited for Lucas to look up before he held out his arms for approval. "See?" Lucas nodded after a moment's examination and pushed away his tears. "Besides, we were going to get a bigger house anyway, right?"

Lucas' eyes went wide again. "Are my sisters okay?"

Calleigh smiled patiently, willing away the tears that were prickling just behind her eyes. "They're fine," she patted her belly. "I'm not going to let anything happen to them."

Unconvinced, Lucas cupped his hands around his mouth and addressed his mother's abdomen. "Sisters, I hope you're okay. We're going to get a new house with room for you guys soon. But right now we have to stay with _Abuela_ and _Abuelo_." He paused and put his ear to her belly before pulling away with a smile. "They said they want a house with a pool."

Despite everything, his parents couldn't help but smile. "Did they?" Calleigh asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well we'll have to see what we can do."

Eric clapped a hand to his son's shoulders and turned him around. "Come on, pal, let's get inside."

The evening passed quickly and quietly. Calleigh artfully avoided her husband by helping Chlorinda with the laundry and with making the beds in both of the guest rooms. She called her parents and explained the situation—not the whole situation, they weren't ready for that—while assuring them that everyone was fine, no one had been hurt, and it was just a happy coincidence that they'd all been out of the house at the time of the fire.

But Calleigh wasn't so sure it was a coincidence. While they had watched the firemen work to extinguish their home, Eric had come clean about Rosha and the letter, including the warning on the last one—_Soon_. She took a shuddering breath and did her best to push the thoughts from her mind. Worrying about it tonight wouldn't solve anything. They were safe, they were together, and Lucas was only sleeping in the next room—close enough to hear if anything were to happen.

Eric had noticed his wife's chilly behavior toward him right away. He didn't blame her. He felt like an idiot for keeping a secret—especially a secret like this—from her. Morosely, he tried to think of ways to apologize, to prove he wasn't as much of a shmuck as it seemed—but nothing came to mind. Lucas distracted him momentarily by needing help with homework. After homework there was a battle over a shower—Eric won, Lucas bathed—and then it was time for bed.

"Dad?" the boy asked, crawling beneath the comforter in Eric's old bedroom.

"What's up?"

"I know Mom said the fire was an accident…" he stopped and adjusted the pillows. "But do you think maybe you should check for trace anyway?"

Eric smiled; Lucas had a vague understanding about what his parents did for a living. He had once overheard him telling one of his soccer friends that his dad "stopped bad guys and looked for trace"…although he was unable to elaborate when the other boy asked what in the world trace was. He tucked the covers around his son's body and nodded. "Yeah, they've got people checking for trace right now."

"And fingerprints, too?"

"Fingerprints too," Eric assured him. He bent and kissed Lucas' forehead. "I don't want you to worry about the house, okay? We're going to replace everything that we can't save and we're going to move into a new, big house and everything's going to be fine."

Lucas offered him a strange look. "I know that, Dad."

"Good," Eric said, shutting off the light. "Get some sleep." He left the room with the realization that he had been saying those things aloud to convince not only Lucas, but himself as well.

Calleigh was digging through their suitcase when he opened the next door down. She was angrily sifting through a pile of his shirts, muttering to herself. Eric resisted the urge to knock before entering.

"Everything okay?" he asked, keeping his distance by heading toward the dresser and unclasping his watch.

"Where did you put our toothbrushes?" she snapped, not looking up.

He pointed to the adjoining bathroom. "In there already—with your shampoo and stuff."

She gave a stiff nod and left the room. A moment later, he heard the faucet running and the telltale sound of Calleigh's furious brush strokes. He changed out of his clothes and moved the suitcase to a corner of the room before turning down the bed. Part of him thought he should just accept the inevitable and head for the couch now, knowing that Calleigh probably wasn't going to talk to him tonight. He considered it for a moment, weighing the options back and forth before he noticed that the background noise had changed considerable. There were no longer any sounds of brushing or spitting or water running. They had been replaced with something different.

Her toothbrush, still covered in frothy toothpaste, had fallen from her hand and had landed in the sink next to a small puddle of spat residue. Eric noticed this before his eyes traveled up to the reflection and over to where Calleigh sat on the edge of the bathtub, face in hands. She sniffled once or twice before her shoulders began to shake and a tiny sob escaped her throat.

"Cal," he said softly, causing her to look up. The tears had been smeared by her hand over her face, casting a glistening sheen over her cheeks. He knelt beside her and took her face in his hands. "Cal, we're okay, baby."

"No, we are not okay," she said softly, shaking her head. "I am not okay." She got to her feet and leaned against the counter, rubbing at her dampened eyes with the heels of her hands.

"I know I screwed up," he admitted with a heavy sigh, bringing himself to sit where she had just been. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner I just…"

"That doesn't even matter now," Calleigh said, crossing her arms over herself, unintentionally hugging her belly. "I wish you would have told me, but it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change what happened. I just…" she shook her head. "I just feel so…"

"So what, Cal?" Eric prompted, pressing the tips of his fingers together, waiting for her to say 'hurt' or 'betrayed' or 'alone'.

Her face crumpled suddenly and unexpectedly. "I just feel so scared," she admitted quietly, her voice cracking as another pair of tears slid down her cheeks. "I keep thinking that if we had been home or if your mom had dropped Lucas off early or…"

Eric was on his feet in a moment and hugging her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. He felt her arms wind around him and pressed a kiss to her hair. "But she didn't. We weren't there, we're not hurt. And we're going to find out who's doing this…I promise."

She pulled away but not out of his embrace and rested her hands on his chest. "If something happens to him, Eric, I don't know what I'd do," she said, shaking her head. "I love him so much…"

"I know you do," he assured her. "And he knows it too." Eric kissed her gently before continuing. "You two are my whole life," he told her softly. "I would die before I let anything happen to either of you."

Calleigh allowed herself a small smile as he pressed his lips to her forehead again. "Just promise me something."

"Anything."

"No more secrets. Ever."

Eric smiled and nodded. "No more secrets ever."

**0x0x0**

Saturday morning dawned sunny and clear as the team took to the charred framework of Eric and Calleigh's house with boxes to save what they could and large trash bags to toss what they couldn't. The fire had taken out the back of the house, burning through Lucas' room and the upstairs hallway—stopped before it did any major damage to the master bedroom. The firebomb itself, upon detonation, had blown a hole through the floorboards and had rained fire and debris into the kitchen, effectively destroying everything it touched there. The living room and dining room—both in the front of the house—had remained relatively unscathed.

Frank and Natalia were carefully prodding around what remained of Lucas' room, trying to see if there was anything at all that could be saved. While Eric and Horatio checked around the perimeter of the house, looking to see if the night shift had overlooked anything, Ryan helped Calleigh dig through the rubble in the kitchen, attempting to save any of her expensive cookware. Maxine had taken it upon herself to being packing up what had not been touched by the fire and making trips to and from the cars.

She was on her way back into the house when she heard Calleigh erupt into a coughing fit. Concerned, she stuck her head into the scorched kitchen. "Everything okay?" she asked, directing her question at her wheezing friend.

Ryan handed Calleigh a bottle of water. "She just got a mouthful of dust," he explained while Calleigh struggled for breath. After a few moments, she calmed down and gulped at the water he gave her. "You okay now, Big Mama?"

"Ryan," she warned breathlessly, "what did I tell you about calling me that?"

He smiled. "All right, I guess you've got a point—you're not really all that big yet."

"We could call you Little Mama," Maxine suggested before she could stop herself.

Calleigh shot them both a glare. "Maxine, would you mind switching me jobs? Just for a little while, while I catch my breath?"

"Of course not!" Maxine exclaimed, rushing to help her up. "Go outside and take a breather. I'll keep looking for stuff in here."

The two took to the work once again, moving the remains of charred cabinets, melted appliances, and burned food into garbage bags, digging for anything that could be saved. Ryan shook his head sadly after awhile.

"I can't stand the smell of fire," he said with disgust.

Maxine raised an eyebrow. "Says the man who spends half of his days knee deep in garbage and blow flies?"

"That's different," he shrugged. "That's work—you expect gross shit from work."

"Well this is sort of like work," she said thoughtfully.

"No, this is Eric and Calleigh's place," he corrected. "I don't want to come to Eric and Calleigh's and smell sulfur and melted plastic."

"You've got a point," she considered, turning over what used to be a barstool. "But still…they need our help."

"That's what we do," he said, almost to himself.

A thought struck her. "Do you remember when they broke up? And you wanted to shoot yourself in the foot to get them back together?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I had a lot of really good ideas before that one," he reminded.

"Oh yeah," she rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Like kidnapping them and locking them in a warehouse—that was a winner."

"I believe I suggested a cage match, too."

And just like that, they were laughing together again. Ryan couldn't believe how much he had missed the sound of her laugh, the way her nose crinkled when she found something truly hilarious. He wanted to drop what he was doing, leap over the debris, pull her to him and kiss her senseless. Kiss her until they forgot about everything that had happened. Kiss her until she loved him again.

Maxine noticed the look he was giving her. She straightened and quirked an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, looking around.

Ryan smiled and shook his head. "It's nothing, Max."

But as she turned back to work, she smiled to herself. She had missed it too, the easy laughter, the joking. It wasn't nothing. It was so much more than nothing.

* * *

**AN**: I know you may be thinking "wow…filler chapter much?" but I'm going to be honest, I really liked this chapter. A lot. And it can't be angst and sorrow and suspense ALL the time. I mean, don't worry—it's comin'. The angst and suspense is _definitely_ coming. But I thought I'd cheer you up with a slightly happier chapter first. Send me your love!!


	10. Chapter Nine

AN: Thank you once more for all of your wonderous reviews. I just love you guys. Lots and lots of love happening here. This chapter was actually supposed to be longer, but I thought I'd rambled long enough. Also, this chapter is dedicated to my neighbors who have outrageously loud sex at all hours of the night and wake me up, causing me to write fanfic until I can fall asleep once again.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Calleigh had read somewhere that some pregnant women seem to 'pop' suddenly—almost overnight. She had been keeping her fingers crossed that it wouldn't happen to her—that she would have time to progressively gather enough maternity clothes to get her through until July.

But as she looked at herself in the mirror after her morning shower, Calleigh could see that that probably wasn't going to be an option. She sighed and vaguely wondered if she had anything that would fit over her suddenly enormous belly. By the time Eric was finished getting ready, she had dug out a pair of black track pants but could not manage to locate a shirt to go with it.

He watched with amusement as she struggled with a t-shirt, practically begging it not to roll up over her bump. She caught his grin in the mirror and shot him a glare. "It's not funny, Eric," she insisted. "This is a serious problem—if I don't have anything to wear, I can't go to work."

He raised an eyebrow. "Cal, come on. You look fine."

"Sure, fine if I'm going to the gym. And even then I wouldn't wear something this skin tight," she tugged on the shirt again. "It's hopeless—I'm going to have to buy new clothes."

Eric came up behind her and rested his hands on her stomach. He kissed her cheek and rested his chin on her shoulder. "New clothes you can put in your new closet."

Calleigh smiled at the memory of the house they had just closed on. "Walk-in closets," she sighed with contentment, momentarily forgetting the problem of her diminishing wardrobe.

"Mmhmm," Eric dropped another kiss onto her jaw. "Walk-in closets," his kisses moved to just below her ear. "Granite countertops," her neck. "And best of all," he breathed against her skin, "an in—"

"—ground pool," Calleigh finished with him, unable to keep the smile off of her face. "Lucas is going to flip."

"Yeah, thank God for a volatile real estate market, huh?"

"You can say that again," Calleigh turned in his arms and met his lips with hers. He pulled her close and deepened the kiss, stopping only when her eyes flitted open and landed on the clock. She pulled away quickly. "Oh my God—we're late."

"We are?" he asked, highly disappointed.

"We are," she assured him, sliding her feet into the most comfortable shoes she could find.

"What about your uh…" he motioned to her very casual appearance. "Wardrobe issues?"

Calleigh shot him an unimpressed eyebrow. "I'll just work in the field all day, or down in my lab—far, far away from people and anyone I might make an impression on."

Eric laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, God forbid you let anyone think you're actually pregnant."

She couldn't help but wonder, as they grabbed travel mugs of coffee and tea and loaded themselves into the car, if he was more serious than he was letting on.

Horatio stopped them at reception, sending Eric with Natalia on a call-out to the Grove. His kind eyes fell on his ballistics expert. "Calleigh, you're…"

She sighed. "I know, I know this is not appropriate to wear to work but things have been so crazy lately," she gave another hard tug on her shirt, willing it to stay down. "I haven't had time to go and buy anything new."

The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin. "I was just going to mention that you," he paused and allowed his eyes to twitch her belly before returning to her face, "you seem much more pregnant than you did last week."

Calleigh gave another cavernous sigh. "Well, Saturday did mark the start of month five. I've barely been keeping track what with everything that's been going on and then we're moving next weekend and it's just…" she trailed off, looking thoroughly exhausted.

Horatio gave another smile. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Aside from keeping me in the lab all day?"

He looked surprised. "Really?"

"If you wouldn't mind. I would just be more comfortable—at least until I can buy some new clothes."

"Well make sure you don't wait too long to do that," he commented, a hint of humor in his voice. "You're my secret weapon in interrogation."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Well they definitely won't see me comin' now, that's for sure."

"That's what I'm counting on," he said as his pager went off. "I'll see you later."

"Okay, I'll be in my lab."

She stopped in the break room to grab a muffin and some more hot water for her tea before heading down the back hallway and down a few steps to where a pile of cases, several bags of evidence, and her beautiful, smiling gun case were waiting for her. Calleigh left her tea to steep and picked up the first case file homicide had left on her desk.

She was perusing the photos, making mental notes on the muzzle stamp when she felt it. It felt like something had slithered across her stomach. She stopped reading and waited for a few moments before it happened: a small, definitive push from the inside to the right side. A moment later, she felt something similar from the other side. The file fell from her hands as a shocked smile came over her face. All at once, the house expenses and the new clothes and the college funds didn't seem all that important. Calleigh placed both hands on her belly and stared at it with a tenderness she hadn't felt before. "Hey, guys," she breathed softly. "Thanks for the wake-up call."

**0x0x0**

Over the next week, while Calleigh adapted quickly to the sudden constant movement of her babies inside of her, neither she nor Eric could adjust to coming home to see their other child being spoiled rotten daily by his _Abuela_.

"_Mama,_" Eric exclaimed, watching with dismay as the duo came through the door carrying bag after bag of clothing. "You don't have to keep doing this. We can take of it."

She waved away her son's words. "Nonsense. You two have enough to worry about without having to replace all of his things."

"Chlorinda, we really can take care of it," Calleigh reminded gently, unleashing her hair from its tortoise shell clip. "You've done too much for us already."

The older woman smiled and closed the door behind her grandson. "There's no such thing as too much, _querida_," she said firmly. "Let me help."

Eric sighed and kissed his mother's cheek. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

"You'd starve, of course," Chlorinda said simply; Eric smiled and grabbed a few of the bags, following Lucas up the stairs. Chlorinda turned back to Calleigh. "It's thanks to my good Cuban food that those babies are getting big and healthy."

Calleigh smiled and chose not to mention that it was thanks to the good Cuban food that she spent most of her nights awake with heartburn. "That reminds me, Chlorinda, I want to cook you and Pavel dinner on Saturday night."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," Calleigh nodded firmly. "You've both been nothing but wonderful, and Eric's right—I don't know what we would have done without you."

"It was nothing," she promised. "Nothing at all."

"Well still, we really don't have anything to give you in return, but I would love to cook dinner our last night here—would that be alright?"

Her mother-in-law came over to the table where Calleigh was seated and kissed her forehead. "Of course it is. I'm just sorry that Saturday is going to be your last night here—I've loved having you."

"You'll be happy to have some peace and quiet, I'm sure."

Chlorinda smiled. "Something that's going to be in short supply for you all too soon, I'm afraid." Gently, she placed a hand on Calleigh's belly and gave a little laugh. "Feels like these two are going to give Lucas a run for his money on the soccer field."

Calleigh laughed and ran her hands over her belly again. Despite all there was to worry about, and all she couldn't control, she couldn't help but feel the first real flushes of hope and excitement.

**0x0x0**

If there was one thing Lucas Delko hated, it was a trip to the grocery store. Doctors, dentists, infinite Easter vigil church services? Fine, no problem. But tell him he was going to the grocery store and you could expect a king-sized order of attitude.

"Mom, this is stupid—why couldn't I just go to CSI with Dad?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

She raised an eyebrow. "And do what all day?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Not be here?"

The hairs on the back of Calleigh's neck stood on end as she rounded the cart into the next aisle. She stopped and looked behind her—no one there but the average collection of soccer moms and old men, shuffling through the pasta and rice aisle. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

"Mom?" Lucas tugged on her hand. "Mom, are you okay?"

She blinked and shook the thought from her head. She was being paranoid—she was at a grocery store, for God's sake. No one would be stupid enough to try something in such a public place. And if they did, she was still carrying her off-duty .38. "I'm fine," she told her son, plastering on a smile. "What else do we need?"

Returning to his contemptuous state, Lucas looked at the list clutched in his hand. "Chicken—can I go get it?"

She shook her head. "It's right at the end of this aisle—stay with my purse, I'll be back in two seconds."

Calleigh looked behind them once again—the aisle was still empty—and made her way slowly to the end of the row and grabbed a large package of chicken. Her eyes scanned left to right, searching for anyone who might look even slightly suspicious. She found no one and moved her eyes back to her own cart.

Her own empty cart.

Lucas was nowhere to be seen.

The chicken fell from her hands as she willed herself to stay calm. She could feel her heart rate rising and a sweat break out along her hairline and on her palms. "Lucas?" she called, willing her voice to stay steady. "Lucas, where are you?" When she received no immediate answer, Calleigh took a few steps forward, her breathing becoming erratic. "Lucas!" she yelled, making her way to the cart. _Don't touch anything, Calleigh,_ she reminded herself. _It might be evidence._ Trying to shove the possibility from her mind, she abandoned the cart and stalked toward the aisle closest to her. "Lucas Timothy Delko!" she shouted, trying to sound more angry than panicked.

His head of messy curls popped around the corner. "What?"

Something gave out in Calleigh's chest, nearly knocking her over with relief. She ran to him and grabbed his shoulders. "Don't you _ever_ do that again, do you understand me?"

"Do what?"

"I told you to wait by the cart and _not to move._ What were you doing? Do you want somebody to steal you?" Calleigh could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"You forgot to get breadcrumbs," he managed, his own eyes welling from being scolded. "I was just trying to help." He held up the blue box of breadcrumbs and the grocery list.

Calleigh tried to keep up her front of admonishment for a few more moments before she gave up and pulled him tightly to her. "Don't do that anymore," she said quietly. "You scared me to death."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, still pressed against her. "I really was just trying to help."

She sighed and released him. "I know you were—but Luke," she crouched to be at eye level with him, "you can't just wander off without telling me, okay? There are a lot of bad people out there who would want to take a little boy like you."

Lucas grew pensive. "Like that man who hurt Katie?"

Calleigh nodded solemnly. "Yes, like him. And there are a lot more like him out there—that's why Dad and I work so hard to keep you safe. We don't want anything to happen to you—got it?" He nodded and she reached out a mothering hand to smooth back his curls. "Good," she said softly before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

They had been through the checkout line and were heading toward the car when Lucas spoke up again. "Mom, do you know that man?"

Calleigh's brow furrowed as she looked down at her son. "What man, baby?"

"That man," Lucas pointed across the parking lot at a dark blue truck. Calleigh squinted but only managed to catch a glimpse of a jacket before the driver's side door slammed shut. "He's gone now—but he was there a minute ago."

"No," she shook her head. "Why would you think I know him?"

"Well, I saw him a bunch of times in the grocery store—and he asked me if we found a new house yet."

Calleigh's blood ran cold. "You talked to him?"

"No!" Lucas insisted, his eyes growing wider. "I mean, I told him I wasn't allowed to talk to strangers."

"When did you see him?"

"When I was getting the breadcrumbs—before I got in trouble."

"He asked you if we found a new house?" she repeated, trying again not to panic. "Why would he ask that?"

Lucas shrugged. "He said he knew what happened and he wanted to know if we had a new house yet."

She looked back to where she had seen the truck, but it had pulled away. Calleigh hurried Lucas to the car and back to Eric's parents. No matter how she tried, for the rest of the day, she found she could not get warm.

**0x0x0**

The move to the new house was hectic, as could be expected, with a slow-moving Calleigh, a rambunctious seven year-old zooming around the house, begging to go for a swim, and a bickering set of movers (Frank and Ryan) shuffling all of the furniture off of the UHaul. But it was managed without serious incident and after a few days things had almost returned to normal.

Maxine stopped over early the next Saturday with a garbage bag full of maternity clothes and an old magazine of nursery ideas. "I don't know if this will help," she said, dragging the bag up the stairs behind Calleigh. "But I thought it could give you a few ideas."

Calleigh accepted both of her gifts with equal gratitude. "You're a lifesaver," she breathed, dropping down onto the bed to sort through her new temporary wardrobe.

"I'm sorry if they're hideous," Maxine apologized for the clothes. "But most maternity clothes are." She watched as Calleigh began to pick through a few tops. "I gained weight all over when I was pregnant," she explained of the plus-size tops and jeans. "But you seem to be all baby—or, babies, I guess. Have you found out what you're having?"

"I know!" Eric called gleefully from the master bathroom, where he'd been painting all morning.

"Don't you say another word!" Calleigh exclaimed, pointing a finger in his direction.

Maxine raised an eyebrow. "What's going on here?"

"He wanted to know and I didn't, so I had the doctor tell him and then swear him to secrecy," Calleigh explained.

"Sure you can keep that up for the next four months?" Maxine asked skeptically as Eric emerged with smudges of sage green paint on his fingers and forearms.

"Please," he waved a hand. "It's cake. And if I forget, I've got the best shot in three states to remind me to keep my mouth shut."

Calleigh smiled up at him as he squeezed her shoulders. "How's the bathroom coming?"

In all of the day-to-day hassles of moving in and inhabiting a new place, it was almost easy to forget her scare at the supermarket. Though she'd told Eric almost immediately, and he'd passed the information on to the rest of the team, nothing had come of it. There was no positive ID on the car, Lucas' memory was hazy at best for a physical description, and Calleigh had barely seen him at all. With almost three weeks without any significant sign from the stalker, everyone was beginning to wonder: what was he waiting for?

Eric shrugged. "It's coming, I think I'm going to need another little can of white if you want me to finish that trim today. You want those paint swatches?"

"Ooh, yes please."

He returned moments later with three fans of different color. Shades of green, orange, and yellow. Calleigh pushed them toward Maxine. "What do you think?"

She studied them for a moment. "Very unisex, I see."

"You know how I hate gender roles," the blonde commented lightly.

Her friend squinted at the swatches for a few moments longer before placing a fingernail onto a light, creamy shade of orange. "I like this one," she said finally. "It reminds me of sorbet."

Calleigh smiled. "I like that one too," she held it up for Eric's approval. "What do you think?"

"Whatever you want to do, babe. I like the orange."

Her bright green eyes turned hopeful. "How much do you like it?"

Eric's shoulders dropped. "I'm guessing enough to pick up a can while I'm at the hardware store."

Her smile widened. "Have I told you lately that you're absolutely wonderful?" She tilted her chin upward to brush her lips with his. "And we're probably going to need two cans—just be sure."

He sighed again. "Yes, dear. Want me to grab some lunch while I'm out?"

"Would you?" she smiled again. "See? What'd I tell you? Wonderful."

Eric rolled his eyes. "Max, what can I get for you?"

She shrugged. "Whatever—burgers, sandwiches…I'm down for whatever."

"Got it," he grabbed his keys and wallet from the dresser on his way to the door.

"Take Lucas with you," Calleigh suggested. "He's been begging to help."

"Will do," Eric nodded. "I'll be back in a bit."

The house quieted considerably once the sound John Madden's voice was no longer booming from the front of the hallway and Eric's humming was nowhere to be found. Calleigh sighed and leaned back on the bed, her belly eclipsing her view of Maxine.

"I really hope these clothes fit," she said quietly, feeling what she'd been referring to as Baby A kick against her palm. "I'm getting really sick of wearing track pants to work."

Maxine smiled. "They'll fit, I promise." She looked around and shook her head. "Cal, I don't know how you do it," she admitted after a moment.

"How I do what?" Calleigh struggled to prop herself up on her elbows.

"Your life—everything that's going on and you're still holding it all together," she shook her head again. "I just don't see how you do it."

Calleigh raised an eyebrow. "My parents may have left a lot to be desired," she said honestly, "but they did give me years of practice of putting on a brave face."

"It's not just that," Max said, her eyes falling to her hands. "I see you and Eric together and you're just so…" she rolled her eyes. "Still so freakin' _in love_." She paused and watched Calleigh's cheeks tint pink as she giggled. "I mean, you've been through everything and you're still acting like newlyweds. It's just…"

Calleigh pushed herself back up to sitting and covered her friend's hand with her own. "We have _not _been through everything. We never went through what you did, Max—you can't compare your relationship to mine. They're nothing alike."

"But even if you had—and thank God," she added, "you didn't—I don't think you two would have ended up the way Ryan and I did."

"Hey," she reminded with a wag of her finger, "you and Ryan haven't ended up anywhere yet. Who says it has to be over?"

Maxine sighed and pushed back her hair. "I just think it is," she said sadly. "You just go so long without talking, without being in each other's lives…it gets to a point where you just can't go back."

"Do you still love him?"

"That's not even the point."

Calleigh raised another unconvinced eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Of course I do!" she said in exasperation. "Everyone loves Ryan, he's a loveable guy."

"Maxine…"

"Love's not always enough, Cal," she said quietly, running her thumb along the pale white circle around her ring finger. "I just don't know if things can ever go back to the way they were before…"

There was a lapse in conversation while Calleigh tried to find the right words to say. "Max," she began softly, "things are never going to be the way they were with Katie—you know that. But that doesn't mean the whole thing was a waste. There's still a lot of good there."

"I don't know. There's a lot of baggage too."

"At least you know it's baggage that already matches," Calleigh quipped, willing a smile from her best girl friend. She was granted one for her efforts and squeezed her hand. "At least think about talking to him again."

Maxine sighed. "You know what your problem is?"

"Enlighten me."

"You're an eternal optimist."

Calleigh shrugged and stretched her eyes upward. "It's my curse," she smiled playfully.

"Come on, let's go look at this nursery," Max pulled her heavy friend off the bed and followed her next door to help with measurements for cribs and dressers, allowing her brain to focus on the task at hand rather than the confession she'd just made.

Until she got home.

The red light was blinking on her machine when she pushed open the door. Mindlessly, Maxine pressed the play button while she wandered to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

"Hello Maxine, this is Peter Caulfield," the bottle nearly slipped from her hands at the sound of his voice. "I'm just calling to inform you that yesterday signaled the end of your six-month separation from Mr. Wolfe. At this point I'd like to get in touch with you to discuss your options regarding moving forward with filing the divorce papers. Please give me a call back at the office anytime after 8am Monday morning."

She listened to the message a few more times, different words jumping out at her each time. End. Separation. Options. Divorce.

Maxine sat down on the couch and sipped thoughtfully from her water. Despite what she had told Calleigh, her head was still winning its argument with her heart. Too much had happened. They had drifted too far apart.

Hadn't they?

* * *

AN: It just struck me that this chapter was almost entirely about Calleigh…um…sorry? I love her? Plus, she got shit on in this week's episode. This is my way of making it up to her. Sorry if this bugs some people, but I felt that her pregnancy was being put on a back burner. Wanna fight about it? PM me. Otherwise, just review your little hearts out. Love ya!


	11. Chapter Ten

**AN: **This chapter is owed almost entirely to the help of my lovely new friend, takingbarcelona, without whom (and about a million rounds of PMing) I would not have been able to finish this chapter. She is my little ray of sunshine.

And also all of the love and support from my beautiful, wonderful, chocolate covered reviewers. You guys spin me right round, baby, right round. Like a record.

Okay, buckle on up, kiddies…it's angstin' time.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_"Stars shining bright above you," _Calleigh sang softly as she moved around Lucas' bedroom, scooping up dirty clothes and a pair of soccer cleats. "_Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you.'" _ She bent with some difficulty and plugged in his nightlight as the boy crawled into bed and snuggled under his covers. "_Birds singin' in the sycamore tree…dream a little dream of me."_

"Mom?" Lucas asked, kicking off his socks under the covers.

Calleigh perched on the edge of his bed. "What?"

"Are you going to sing that song to my sisters when they get here?"

A small smile graced her lips. "I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted. "Would you prefer if I didn't?"

"I don't know," he looked down. "I guess I just hope they like a different song."

Calleigh's smile grew by half. "Don't you worry," she said, leaning down to press a loving kiss to his forehead. "I won't give them our song—that's for you and me, baby."

"I'm not trying to be mean," he clarified, holding up a hand. "I just…"

She nodded. "I gotcha."

"Can you keep singing?"

His mother laughed. "You are the only one who has ever asked me that," she told him with a sigh. "_Say nighty-night and kiss me," _at this line, she always bent and accepted a kiss from him. "_Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be…dream a little dream of me."_ She noticed his eyelids were already starting to droop as she got to her feet. "Hey," she remembered, reaching under the lamp shade to turn off the light. "You've got a birthday coming up, don't you?"

"Fourteen days," he said around a yawn.

"You feel like telling your mother want you want?" He grinned a sleepy and mischievous grin and shook his head. "No?"

"Huh-uh."

"All right, all right," she shrugged carelessly. "I'll just have to start using some interrogation tactics on you." Lucas was still laughing when she made her way to the door and gave him the last verse of his song. "_But in your dreams, wherever they be…dream a little dream of me."_

She eased herself along the hallway with one hand on the wall, the other on her large and off-balancing belly. Eric was brushing his teeth when she climbed under the covers and attempted to settle into a comfortable position.

The water rushed again and shut off, moments before the bathroom light followed suit and Eric emerged, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Luke's asleep?"

Calleigh nodded with a smile, despite her discomfort. "He wanted to know if I'd sing 'Dream a Little Dream' to the twins to get them to sleep."

Eric grinned and turned down his side of the bed. "What did you tell him?" he asked, meandering over to the dresser to remove his watch.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she assured him. "I'll have to find some other song to butcher once these two get here." With some effort, she managed to get in a position, balancing on her hip, which took some of the pressure off of her lower back.

"How are you doing?" he asked, noticing with dismay how she winced in pain every time she moved.

"I'm fine," Calleigh huffed, lifting her head in vain, searching the immediate arrow for a pillow to stuff between her knees.

Eric grabbed the nearest throw pillow from the pile on the floor and held it up. "This what you're looking for?" She nodded with another huff as he climbed onto the bed and gave her a hand. "Any better?"

Calleigh gave a momentary sigh of relief and nodded. "Yeah, that's good." Eric chuckled, listening to her sounds of contentment as she snuggled into the pillows and blankets while he reached over her and shut off the lights. Her release was short lived, however, as she felt the now familiar shift of life inside of her. "Not now," she moaned, knowing she would never sleep if they continued their kicking and moving about. "Please," she pleaded, "not tonight."

Eric, who had been busy setting the alarm, turned back to her with a questionable look. "I…didn't say anything," he reminded. "But I guess my plans for the evening were just shot down."

She shot him an unimpressed glare and pointed to her belly. "It's like they know when I'm about to get comfortable," she said, hating how whiny she sounded. "I don't know why we can't all just get on the same schedule...it would make things so much easier."

Her griping was met with a patient smile. "Your kids? Make things easy?" he scoffed. "That'd be the day." Eric ignored her rolling eyes and propped himself up on an elbow, one large hand sliding her shirt up to reveal her melon-hard pale belly. "Hey," he settled himself at eye-level with her belly button. "You in there—this is your father talking."

Calleigh giggled. "Like they're going to be scared of you," she rubbed his hair playfully. "You big softie."

"Ignore that," Eric cleared his throat, sounding serious, only making Calleigh laugh harder. "You two stop moving around, Mommy's gotta get some sleep."

While the movement didn't stop entirely, the kicking subsided greatly. Calleigh gave another relieved sigh. "How do you do that?" she asked in disbelief.

Eric gave a smug smile. "I've got the touch," he pressed his lips to her bare stomach.

"Well that much I knew," she murmured, hoping he would continue his kisses.

And he did.

**0x0x0**

There was a large bowl of fresh, ripe oranges on the break room table when Calleigh entered the next morning. She eyed it suspiciously. "What's with all the fruit?" she asked, reaching for the electric kettle.

Natalia shrugged from her leaning position against the counter. "Suncoast Grove sent it over as a thank you gift."

"Well that's nice," she commented brightly, setting the kettle steam while she fixed the rest of her cup of tea.

"A thank you gift for what?" Ryan asked, stealing one from the bowl on his way in.

"Remember a few weeks ago? There was that body in their fields…"

Ryan's mouth frowned around the large wedge of orange he'd just shoved into it. "Wasn't he mutilated?"

Natalia's eyes rolled back in her head in thought. "I think so."

"And they sent us the crop he was rotting in?" he asked, giving a hard swallow.

"Gives a whole new meaning to the word 'blood orange,' doesn't it?" Natalia joked, making Calleigh chuckle. Ryan made a move to throw the rest of the orange away. "Oh, c'mon OCD. They wouldn't send us diseased fruit—it's not ethical. I'm sure it's fine."

"You say that now. But when you've got necrotizing fasciitis from this gift of gratitude, don't come crying to me."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "You can't even get that from fruit, Ryan," she sighed in exasperation.

"I'm not taking my chances."

Calleigh swiped the barely eaten orange off of the counter. "I'll take it—I'm starving."

"Big surprise," he scoffed.

Her face fell. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Ryan raised a confused eyebrow. "That you've been eating CSI out of house and home for the last six weeks and it's funny?"

Calleigh felt the blood rush to her face. "I have _not _been eating CSI out of house and home, Ryan," she flung his name at him like an insult. "And even if I had been, you could hardly _blame me_ seeing as I have _two human lives _inside of me, dictating my appetite. I'd like to see you try it!"

Without another word, Calleigh stormed off with her cup of tea and half-eaten orange, slamming the door as she did so, leaving a stunned Ryan and a thoroughly amused Natalia.

"What the hell was that?" Ryan asked aloud, still staring in shock at the door.

"They're called mood swings, pal, and I think we just lived through one."

"I was making a joke!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," she agreed with a shake of her head. "And if I were you I'd cut that out—one of these days she's just going to shoot you and be done with it."

Natalia left Ryan scratching his head in the break room.

Calleigh had stalked out of the break room and was making her way down to ballistics when she nearly upended Horatio in a mid-corridor collision. "Oh my goodness," she said, watching helplessly as he bent to retrieve his scattered files. "I'd help, I swear but I just…"

Her boss stood and brushed himself off with a small grin. "Perfectly fine, ma'am. I was actually coming to find both you and Eric—where is he?"

"We drove separately today, Lucas would have made us both late," she rolled her eyes at the memory of the frantic morning. "Why, what's going on?"

"Well, we apprehended a suspect last night," he put a hand on her elbow and steered her toward a nearby bench.

"A suspect?" she repeated with a surprised blink. "Where? What happened? I thought we only had dead ends?"

"Well, we did," he agreed, nodding his head. "But early this morning patrol noticed some suspicious activity at the crime scene."

"The crime scene—you mean our old house?"

"Yes, that's what I mean. They thought he might be looting what was left of the scene."

"Who is he?" she looked around. "Where is he? Is he over in interrogation?"

"Currently he's in a holding cell while we wait for a warrant for a handwriting and DNA sample."

"Do you think he's our stalker?" she asked, not allowing herself to hope that it could be this easy.

"I'm not sure yet," Horatio tilted his head to the side in thought. "The evidence seems to be pointing that way."

Calleigh studied his body language and evasive tone. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked after a few long moments.

"Something that's going to bias your opinion of him."

"Horatio, the man burned down my house and has been terrorizing my family for months. My opinion is about as biased as it's going to get. What else?"

He allowed himself a brief smile at her tenacity before he took a deep breath. "His name is David Wacops—he is the cousin of the man who killed Katie Wolfe."

Calleigh took a shuddering breath and ran her hands over her face, nodding slowly as she digested this information. "Ryan can't be anywhere near this," she said finally.

"I realize that, which is why I plan on keeping him in the field as much as possible today. You realize you're not allowed in interrogation, right?"

She nodded again. "Just…"

"What is it?"

"Just ask him why he did all of this," she raised her eyes to lock with his. "Okay?"

Horatio nodded and gave her arm a quick squeeze. "You have my word."

**0x0x0**

The warrant came through for the handwriting sample but not the DNA swab. Frank and Horatio stood over him, staring intently while he scribbled down his name and the first lines of the Declaration of Independence. When he finished, he shoved the paper across the table and sat back in his chair.

"This is some bullshit, I'm telling you right now."

Horatio glanced over the sample before motioning for an officer. "Why don't you let me decide what this is," he said quietly before handing it over. "To Sam please."

"You can't even hold me for anything," the young man said, running his hands through his hair.

In comparison to his cousin, David Wacops was a good looking man. He was taller and broader with a full head of dark hair—the only real similarities, aside from their shared surname, were the eyes. Piercing silver, glinting dangerously in the light.

"Actually," Horatio corrected conversationally, "we've already got you on looting a crime scene."

David scoffed. "Bullshit," he repeated. "I dropped a contact lens."

"You know," Frank shook his head. "I almost forget what it's like to believe little scumbags like you."

"Fine," David held up his hands. "You don't believe me, I don't care. Just write me my ticket and let me get out of here."

"You're looking at a little more than a ticket, here sparky," Frank leaned his weight onto his hands. "We already like you for a whole mess of other charges."

"Oh yeah?" the suspect looked impressed. "Like what?"

"Like arson, stalking, terrorist threats on a police officer—not to mention that little murder victim that started this whole thing," the sergeant rattled off the list. "Rosha Ortiz—name ring a bell?"

From the other side of the glass, Calleigh felt Eric's hand squeeze hers tighter. "Do you think that's him?" she asked quietly, not taking her eyes off of the scene before her.

"I don't know, Cal," her husband answered. "But if it is, handwriting will confirm it and then he's going away for a long, long time."

She nodded with a hard swallow. "I just want all of this to be over."

Eric leaned over and kissed her temple. "Me too."

Horatio accepted the analysis results from the officer and removed them from the manila envelope and studied them for a few minutes before his face twitched into a grim smile. "Looks like we've got a problem with your credibility, Mr. Wacops."

David raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"It seems that you just gave us a positive handwriting match to those threats we've been talking about."

"Those threats you claim you don't know anything about," Frank snidely reminded.

David Wacops sat back in the chair, nodding his head with resignation. "Okay," he shrugged nonchalantly. "You got the bad guy—I'm your man. But let me clear the record on one thing."

"That chick? Rosha whatever?"

"Ortiz, you moron."

"Right, whatever. I didn't kill her. She wrecked her car outside my store—I'd been doin' my research and hey, there she was."

Horatio cocked his head to the side. "I find that highly convenient, Mr. Wacops."

"Yeah, me too," he gave a chuckle. "I figured it was now or never—what better way to get their attention, y'know?"

Frank looked incredulously toward Horatio. "Cheerful guy, isn't he?"

"Hey," David shrugged again. "I made my point, y'know? Actions have consequences."

"And what actions might you be referring to? The Delkos are good people."

"Good people?" the suspect scoffed. "Good people don't throw a man to the wolves the way your man did in court that day."

Horatio considered this for a moment. "They do," he paused. "They do when the man in question is a monster."

"Look, like I said, my point was made. I just wanted to rile 'em up a little bit. Nobody got hurt."

"And we're going to make sure it stays that way," Horatio nodded to the patrol officer. "Take him."

He followed Wacops out of the interrogation room and made his way over to where Calleigh and Eric were seated. Eric stood and embraced him. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Horatio smiled. "You're family," he told them in a quiet voice, accepting a hug from Calleigh as well. "You know I'd do anything for you."

Calleigh, feeling dizzy with relief, had to sit back down again. "I just…I just can't believe this is all over," she said, not letting go of Eric's hand. "No more patrol cars outside the house, Lucas can start taking the bus again…"

Eric smiled down at her. "We get to be normal people again," he gave her hand another squeeze.

Frank approached the trio with a smile. "Looks like you've got your life back, you two."

"Yes, and to celebrate," Calleigh began, an idea already blossoming inside her head, "you're both coming to the house tonight for dinner." She looked up at Eric for a moment of approval of the idea before she continued. "And Natalia and Ryan and Maxine and Alexx and her family…everybody."

Eric laughed. "Easy there, girl. You sure you're going to feel up to cooking for that many people?"

"If this isn't cause for celebration," she stated firmly, getting to her swollen feet once again, "then nothing is."

They were still laughing and working out the details when Eric's phone buzzed against his hip. "Gimme just a second," he said, excusing himself from the discussion of a menu. "This is Delko," he answered, flipping open the phone.

"Eric?" Chlorinda's voice came through the line, sounding nearly hysterical.

"_Mama_?" he switched quickly to Spanish to speed things along. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

His tone had been cause enough for alarm—the group turned and watched him, concern etched onto their faces.

"I went to the school to pick up Lucas for his doctor's appointment," she said around a sob. "And he's not there, Eric!"

"What do you mean he's not there?" Eric demanded, a hard knot forming in his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

"The teacher said he'd already been picked up. He's _gone_!"

* * *

AN: Dun dun dun. I'm sick. Like, really sick…and everyone knows the best way to recover from an illness (and prompt me to write the next chapter faster) are lots and lots of reviews. So get at it! Oh, and as it is Thanksgiving in my native (not current) country, happy Canadian Thanksgiving!!


	12. Chapter Eleven

AN: Wow! What a response last time! You guys seriously brightened my whole life. I love you. Special love goes to takingbarcelona once again for all of her helpful input and to somethingsdont for not being dead in a ditch somewhere. Love to all—please enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Ryan had never ridden in the back of the Hummer before. When Eric had ended the call from his mother, there was a moment of blind panic where things seemed to fade in the rush to do something. By the time he realized the gravity of what had happened, he had been shoved in the backseat of a Hummer with Horatio behind the wheel and Eric riding shotgun. Natalia and Calleigh were following not far behind.

The younger man watched his friend for a few moments. Watched him prop his elbow on the arm rest and stare out the window. His expression was an unreadable whirl of anger and fear and panic.

Unwillingly, Ryan was seized with a memory he had thought long buried. _He was seated on the stoop outside of his house, not wanting to listen any longer to his sister making funeral arrangements. The sun had begun painting the sky pink and gray with its dusky brushes when he felt Delko sit down next to him._

_"I'm not going to ask if you're okay," he said gruffly, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I just…" from the corner of his eye, Ryan saw him shrug. "I'm just here."_

_It was a few long moments before he spoke. "Has Max gotten out of bed yet?"_

_"Calleigh's up there with her now," he said without answering._

_Ryan nodded. "Okay."_

_The sun dipped further into the sky while they sat together, the sound of their breathing the only interruption of the thickening silence._

_He surprised himself by being the first to break it. "I can't get used to the quiet," he said, looking down at his hands. Eric looked up, taken aback. "She used to cry so much when she was a baby—we thought something was wrong with her," he shook his head. "I thought I was going crazy from all the noise and now it's just so…"_

_"Quiet," Eric finished softly._

_"You expect to lose people," Ryan continued. "You do the job that we do…you know it's dangerous. You accept that risk that you or your best friend or your wife could get hurt or…" he trailed off again. "But she was so _little_." Ryan felt his voice crack unexpectedly. "I used to be able to hold her in the crook of my arm…at night when I'd try to get her back to sleep," he continued around the lump in his throat. "She'd just look at me with those big eyes and it was like…" he took a breath, "it was like we were the only two people in the world."_

_Eric put a hand on his arm. "Ryan, I don't…"_

_"I can't even cry for her," he admitted, finally meeting Eric's eyes with his. "She was my little girl and I can't…" the tears he had been swallowing filled his eyes as a sob cut off the rest of his sentence. "I just want her back." His words were muffled as Eric pulled him close and let his tears soak his shirt._

_"I know you do," he vaguely heard Eric tell him. "I know you do."_

The screeching halt of the Hummer's breaks brought him back to the sickening present as they pulled into the school parking lot. There was no time for haunting memories now, he told himself, he had a godson to find.

The police cars and Hummers were swarming the school grounds, dogs had been given the scent and sent off into the surrounding areas, Amber Alerts had been called in, and there was no stopping Eric Delko as he approached the people who had let his son go.

"Mr. Delko," the principal's assistant was stammering as she followed him closely down the hall. Behind them trailed Horatio and Calleigh, followed by Ryan and Natalia, who'd already brought their kits. "Mr. Delko, you know that we would _never_ release Lucas to someone we didn't think had been authorized by you or your wife."

Eric stopped. "Authorized by me or my wife?" he scoffed. "There are _three other _people in this state who are authorized to pick my son from school unless I say otherwise." His hand shot through the air at the entourage behind them. "And they're right there!" he yelled the last four words—unable to keep his composure for another second. "Did he look like any of them?" The secretary's eyes were wide and frightened—she remained still and silent, too scared to move. "Then you shouldn't have let him go."

"Mr. Delko," the principal approached them looking grave; he was followed by a handful of middle aged men and women and the superintendent. "I can't say how sorry we are for this—"

"Who took him?" Eric cut him off as he was joined by the rest of the team.

"Eric," Horatio began, putting a hand on his arm. "Eric, maybe you should take a step back."

"Who took him?" Eric repeated again, ignoring Horatio's suggestion and nailing the principal to the wall with his gaze.

"We'd uh…we'd have to…to ch-check our sign-in book," the man's nervous eyes darted to one of the teachers, who took off at a run to retrieve it. "But maybe we should c-c-continue this in my office?"

"I think that would be a good idea. Give us a moment." Horatio agreed, taking the lead. He turned back to the group. "Mr. Wolfe, Ms. Boa Vista, start with the main office. He had to sign in before he did anything. That means he had to touch something."

"We're on it, H," Ryan promised with serious nod of his head.

"Won't let you down," Natalia echoed before they took off in the direction the other teacher had just flown.

Horatio turned to his friends and softened his expression. "We will get him back," he said firmly. "I promise you," his kind blue eyes moved from Eric to Calleigh and back again, "I promise you we will get him back."

Calleigh, who had not said a word since stepping onto the premises, nodded slowly. "What can we do?"

The lieutenant placed a hand on his hip. "Why don't you start by going home?" he suggested of her.

"He's my son, I'm an investigator, this is a crime scene," she stated resolutely. "That was a nice try, Horatio, but I'm not going anywhere."

"Cal, are you sure?" Eric asked, his face softening. "I mean, all this stress can't be good for—"

"I'm going to be stressed no matter where I am," she cut him off. "And these babies aren't going anywhere anytime soon. The best thing I can do for them is make sure I get their brother back safely." She turned back to Horatio. "_What_ can I do?"

He took a deep breath and let it out. "Why don't you start by talking to all of the people who were on the playground? Get someone from patrol to start calling parents for permission to talk to the kids. See if anyone noticed Lucas talking to anyone."

She nodded. "Find me the minute you know anything," she said, squeezing Eric's hand before taking off for the other end of the building.

"Eric," Horatio turned back to him. "I need you with me on this, but you've got to get yourself under control."

"I know," Eric nodded. "I know. I just keep thinking about what happened with Katie and this guy might be connected and…" he stopped himself. "I can do this, H."

"I know you can," his boss agreed. "Let's go see what the administration has to say."

The principal—Dr. Paul Marshal Ph.D.—seemed much more comfortable with a wide, oak desk between Eric and himself. "I wasn't in the main office when this person entered the building," he said immediately. "I was here, dealing with another student."

"Who was there?" Eric asked, willing himself to stay calm.

Two of the women behind him and one of the men raised their hands. "We work the main office," the shortest of the three, a woman with graying brown hair and a tired expression said, stepping forward. "I'd have to see the log book to be sure," she continued quietly, "but I know for a fact that he showed us a badge before he signed in."

"How can you not remember a police officer you met an hour ago?" The words slipped from Eric's mouth before he could stop himself.

"It's Career Day for the fourth grade," one of the other secretaries piped up from the corner. "We had parents in and out all morning—it was a little hectic."

"But you're saying that this man _definitely _flashed a badge?" Horatio prompted, steering the conversation back.

"Yes," the first woman nodded emphatically. "I remember because I knew that Lucas wasn't allowed to be released to anyone but the people on the list. The police department is _on that list._"

"Ma'am, certain officers are on that list," Horatio corrected, narrowing his eyes. "Not the entire department."

The door swung open then and a breathless young teacher handed the log book to the principal. Horatio held up a hand. "Just a moment please," he said, digging into his pockets. After a moment he retrieved a pair of gloves and passed them to Dr. Marshal. "That's officially evidence—you'll need to put these on before handling it."

The principal complied and flipped to the date, running a finger down the list of students who had been picked up. "Delko, Lucas," he read under his breath. "Doctor's appointment, 11:30am…" his finger moved left across the page. "Name of chaperone…Officer Tim Speedle."

**0x0x0**

Calleigh was having no luck with the kindergarteners and first graders who had been out to recess with Lucas that morning. With each vague or—in most cases—non existent description, her composure dwindled further away. She had been going through them alphabetically, willing herself to keep it together while each child led her further and further away from her own.

"Teresa Varchek," she called from the list, looking up as pretty little girl she recognized from Lucas' class approached her.

"Hi, Mrs. Delko," she greeted shyly, pieces of her blonde hair blowing across her face in the breeze of the fan.

Calleigh managed a smile. "Hi, Teresa—how are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"I have to ask you a few questions, is that all right?"

"Is it about Lucas?"

Her stomach clenched again in fear. "Yes, it is. Did you see him today?"

Teresa nodded. "He picked me first for kickball," she added, a blush working it's way to her fair cheeks.

Calleigh thought for a moment, trying to think of the best way to draw something useful out of this little girl. "What position was Lucas playing?"

Teresa thought, working her lips over with her loosening teeth. "Um…he was pitcher," she said finally. "Captains are always pitcher."

"Did he play the whole game?"

She could tell she'd stirred a memory. "No…when we went to got out in the field again, he told Miguel to take his place."

"What was he doing that he couldn't go out in the field?"

"His ride was here—he had to go to the doctor's."

Calleigh's heart soared for just a moment. "Did Ms. Fiore come out to get him?"

Teresa shook her head. "No…the policeman came out to the field—he talked to Lucas for a little bit…and then they left."

She took a deep breath. "Teresa, this is very important," she ducked her head to make sure the child met her eyes. "I need you to tell me everything you remember about the man you saw Lucas leave with."

The child's dark blue eyes rolled up while she struggled with her memory. "He was tall…" she started off with a disappointingly vague detail. "Not fat…not really skinny."

"What color was his hair?" Calleigh prompted, trying not to feel overly discouraged.

"It was brown. But it had gray streaks in it—like my grandpa's."

"Was he wearing a uniform?"

Teresa shook her head again. "No, but I saw his badge—it was on his belt."

"Now I need you to think really hard, is there anything else you can remember?"

"I thought he looked kind of old to be a policeman," Teresa admitted, fiddling with her small hands.

Calleigh nodded. "Okay," she made a quick note on her pad. "That's good, Teresa, that's very good. Can you think of anything else?"

Teresa bit her lip. "I don't think so, I'm sorry Mrs. Delko."

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart," Calleigh smiled. "You did a great job. If you think of anything, though, you need to have your mom call me so we can talk about it, okay?" As she had with all of the other children, she presented her card. "Keep this someplace where you won't lose it."

Teresa was escorted away as Calleigh's cell phone buzzed against her hip.

**0x0x0**

The ink on David Wacops' fingers had barely dried when he was shoved into the interrogation room and into a chair once again. "Oh, what do you guys want?" he moaned in exasperation.

"You lied to us, David," Horatio began, folding his sunglasses and setting them on the table.

"What are you talkin' about? I'm already in jail," he motioned emphatically to his orange jumps and blue slip-ons. "What good's lying gonna do me?"

"Where is the boy?" Horatio asked with his usual quiet determination, keenly aware of the ticking time bomb seated next to him. Eric's fingers were twitching anxiously. He had barely spoken since they'd left the school.

"What boy?" David asked before moving his eyes to Eric. "Oh, your boy? I don't know—I was in jail. Remember?"

"I do remember," H continued, moving behind Eric to place a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I also remember that kidnappings usually work in pairs—and I think you've got a partner in all of this."

David sat back, amused. "Do I? That's a nice story, but I don't know what to tell you. If you can't keep track of your kid that's not my problem."

The words had barely left his mouth when Eric lunged across the table and grabbed him by the lapels. "Who are you working with?" he demanded before Ryan and Horatio pulled him back.

"Whoa!" David exclaimed, brushing himself off. "Looks like Daddy's got a few anger issues of his own to work out."

"Where is my son?" Eric spat, trying to calm himself down.

"I already told you," he reminded. "I don't know."

"Then you know who does," Ryan said, settling back down against the window ledge. "You're not going to sit there and tell us this was all just a coincidence—who were you helping?"

The convict scratched his chin and thought for a few long moments. "You're the detectives, right? Why don't you tell me—who do you think I'm helping?"

"The name," Horatio paused and fixed his eyes on Wacops, "that the kidnapper used to abduct Lucas from school was Tim Speedle."

"Tim Speedle…" David thought some more. "Tim Speedle…" he shook his head. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

The door opened then and Calleigh, who had been listening from outside, stalked in and put her hands on the table. "Well it does to me," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "It's ringing so loudly I can barely hear anything else so I wanna know who the hell has the guts to be _using that name_." She punctuated the last three words with three quick slams of her palms against the table.

She could feel Eric's hands on her shoulders, pulling her away from the suspect. "You oughtta keep that bitch on a chain, Delko" he called out to Eric, an impressed smile still on his face. Her gaze didn't leave his glinting silver eyes until Eric had forced her back out into the hallway.

"Calleigh," he said seriously, his eyes leveling with hers. "You have to calm down."

"Calm down?" she exclaimed. "Eric, how can you say that? Our son is out there with some psychopath and we have to rely on the testimony of seven year-olds to get him back! And this guy is in there screwing with us and Lucas could be…"

"Cal, I know, baby, I know," Eric swallowed hard. "I'm just as scared as you are, okay?" he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But we're no good to Lucas if we can't control ourselves. We're going to find him, I promise."

She let out a deep breath and nodded slowly, feeling her eyes begin to swim with tears. "He's hiding something, Eric," she said finally, motioning back to Wacops. "I don't think he knows where Lucas is, but he's definitely hiding something."

"I'll come find you when we're finished with him," he promised. "We'll figure out our next move from there."

He had gone back into the interrogation room before Calleigh collapsed onto one of the more comfortable benches in the corridor and put her face in her hands. A few frightened tears slipped from her eyes and pooled in her palms as she swallowed a sob.

She stayed like that for what felt like a long time before she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Calleigh looked up and into the wide brown eyes of Maxine, kneeling in front of her. "Hey sweetie," she said softly, pushing Calleigh's damp hair out of her face. "Natalia called me from the scene."

"He's gone, Max," she said, unable to stop her voice from breaking once again. "He's just…"

"No," Maxine said firmly, moving to sit next to her friend. "He's missing, Calleigh. He's not gone. You guys are going to find him and then we'll throw a big pool party for his birthday and everything will be okay." She put an arm around Calleigh's shoulders and pulled her to rest against her. There was a time, Maxine remembered, gently rocking her friend back and forth, not all that long ago, when these roles were painfully reversed.

_She hadn't left her bed for three days when Natalia poked her head in, followed closely by Calleigh. The blankets were in a tangled mess, exposing her feet but covering her head, the bedclothes felt so worn they'd almost become a part of her, her mouth tasted bitterly of yesterday's news, and she'd cried so much her eyes were nearly swollen shut. "Go away," she muttered from under her pile of misery._

_She felt the bed sag on either side of her as her friends took a seat. "Come on, sweetheart," Natalia's voice was soothing and gentle. "At least talk to us."_

_"I don't want to talk," she said, attempting to summon the energy to wave them away. It didn't come, her arm stayed where it was. "Just leave me alone."_

_"Sit up, Maxine," Calleigh's voice was firmer, more insistent. "You have to eat something."_

_"I don't want to eat," she argued, still not moving. "I just want to sleep."_

_"Well, sit up and have a little dinner and you can go back to sleep."_

_Maxine could tell that they weren't going away anytime soon. She had no more energy to fight them. With a heave of effort, she pushed back the covers and pulled herself into a seated position. Calleigh reached over, turned on the bedside lamp and bent to retrieve a tray with a bowl of soup. She placed the tray over Maxine's lap and held up the spoon. "You or me, Max."_

_With a roll of her eyes, she grabbed the spoon and dipped it into the broth, bringing the mixture tentatively to her lips. It warmed her on the way down her throat. "I'm eating," she told them. "Go away."_

_They glanced at one another but said nothing and watched until she'd finished the whole bowl of soup. No words were spoken while Calleigh moved the bowl and tray back to the floor and Maxine returned to her prostrate position. This time, however, Natalia lay down next to her. She glanced up and saw that Calleigh had moved closer, her hip touching her friend's, her eyes dark green and full of concern. _

_It was the first time she hadn't felt so alone. "Why her?" she asked softly, tears filling her eyes again. "Why my baby?"_

_Natalia wrapped her arms around her and held her while sob after sob wracked her body. "I know there's nothing that anyone could say that would ever make this right," she said, her voice just barely over a whisper. "But I am so sorry that this happened."_

_"I keep waiting to wake up," she managed, after the tears had subsided. "I just keep hoping that every time I open my eyes, I'll have dreamed it and she'll be right down the hall…" she looked back up to Calleigh and shook her head. "Who could do something like this?"_

_Calleigh's hand trailed up and down her arm. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "But I promise we're going to find him—and when we do, he's never going to hurt anyone again." She reached up and pushed Maxine's dark red hair off of her face. "And you're going to come back from this."_

_"I don't think so," she shook her head. "I'm not like the two of you," she admitted, her eyes welling again. "I'm not strong enough."_

_"That's not true," Natalia said gently. "You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, Maxine."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"Because," Calleigh said, leaning forward to be closer. "You're still with us, even though, right now, I know you don't want to be. And no one would ever blame you for that," she added before continuing. "But you're still here. And I know that if you can come back from this, you can come back from anything."_

_Her eyes were uncertain, her voice full of doubt. "I just…I just don't know how."_

_Natalia's smile was a sad one. "Get up, honey. Get a shower, get dressed," she stopped for a moment before continuing, "and for the love of God, brush your damn teeth."_

_Calleigh's giggle prompted only the smallest hint of smile—but it was more than she'd felt in days._

While they sat in lobby, Maxine made a silent vow that she would never allow her friends to go through what she had. No matter what.

**0x0x0**

The boy's body was slumped against the wall, still knocked out from the car ride. His abductor shook his head—it had only taken the slightest bit of ether to render his new charge unconscious, making his job incredibly easy.

It was amazing how well things had gone already—everything had gone entirely as planned. Even the pick-up, which he had to admit, he'd been a little nervous about. But the Delkos had made his job so much easier than he'd realized. All he had to do was drop one little name and the boy practically leapt into his arms.

_"Speed?" he repeated, a crease forming between his dark brown eyes. "Like Uncle Speed?"_

_"Yep," he'd smiled as the child played right into his hands. "Your mom and dad told you all about me, didn't they?"_

_Lucas had nodded cautiously. "But Daddy said you died a long time ago. Like a hero. And now you and Aunt Marisol keep me safe from bad guys."_

_"No, I didn't die," he shook his head. "I just had to go away for awhile to make everybody believe I was dead."_

_"Why would you do that?"_

_"It's a long story, but I'm back now. I'll tell you in the car on the way to your doctor's appointment, okay?"_

_He was still eyeing him warily. "Are you sure this is okay with Dad?"_

_"Your dad's the one who called me and asked me to pick you up," he explained, offering his hand. "He wanted to be here when I met you, but he has a lot of work to do."_

_"Can we go and see him after my doctor's appointment? Before you drop me back off at school?"_

_"Sure we can," he nodded, unable to keep the smile from his face. "But we've gotta go or else we'll be late. Say bye to your friends."_

He had struggled for only a moment before going limp in his captor's arms. The man had been checking his vital signs religiously, making sure he hadn't killed him by mistake. But he hadn't. Lucas was perfectly fine, aside from being unconscious.

That would have been a mistake indeed, he thought to himself, staring at the pictures he'd collected of the Delko family over the past few months. He didn't want the boy dead.

Not yet, at least.

* * *

AN: To be continued, kiddies. There's a little bit of inspiration from all over the place in this chapter. A little Practical Magic, a little Angel, a little Mystic River…but I mean no harm.

Your reviews seriously sped up my response time on Monday…dare I hope for the same reaction this time? You know the drill—you review, I get inspired. So go go go!!


	13. Chapter Twelve

AN: I am officially in a relationship with my reviewers. It's deep and it's real. I totally love you guys. This chapter begins with an apology to takingbarcelona because she gave me a prompt to work in and although I loved her idea, I just couldn't make it work in context. Perhaps I'll add a missing scene in later. But for now, it's on with the show!

**Chapter Twelve**

Maxine had not actually expected to find Calleigh in the ballistics lab when she returned to CSI that night, bearing gifts of dinner for her friends. She dropped the first bag of Chinese take out off in the break room for Eric, Horatio, and Natalia, for which she was thanked profusely as they dug in.

"Where's Cal?" she asked quietly, looking around her immediate area.

"She's working," Eric answered with a shake of his head.

"Working?"

"She stormed out of here a little while ago," Natalia filled in between bites of her egg roll. "She said she wanted to be alone and do something productive instead of sitting around waiting for something to happen."

"What is happening?"

"Frank and Ryan are taking another crack at Wacops," Eric said, motioning to interrogation.

"Well," Maxine held up another bag, this one full of soup and sandwiches, "I brought her something too. Should I just put it in the fridge?"

Eric raised his eyes to meet hers. "She hasn't eaten anything all day," he said quietly. "Do you think you could try to get her to have a little bit? She might listen to you."

Max wanted to sigh and sit down and be depressed with the rest of them. But instead, she gave her best attempt at a smile and a nod and said, "Sure, I'll head down there right now. Enjoy your food, guys."

She heard the familiar sound of rounds being fired before she even entered the lab. Calleigh was finishing off a clip when she knocked loudly to get her attention. Something in her stance told Maxine that Calleigh's test rounds were more for therapeutic purposes than any other. Still, the blonde turned around when she heard the knocking. "Hey, Maxine."

"Hey, how's it going?"

"It's going," she echoed, loading another clip into the 9mm.

"Don't you think you'd feel better if you got off of your feet?" she suggested, watching as Calleigh raised the gun to fire off another round. "Go home and take a little rest?"

She raised her chin and their eyes met through the orange plastic of her eyewear. "I'll rest when Lucas is safe."

Maxine let out the sigh she'd been holding in. "Okay," she relented, "but you can at least eat something. I brought you some dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Bullshit," Max countered immediately. "You're eating for three."

"I can't eat when I'm upset."

She sat down on the bench and began unpacking the paper bag. "That's a shame," she began as she unwrapped a sub. "Because I have all of these yummy sandwiches and no one to eat them with."

Calleigh, who had begun busying herself with the firearm, turned back to face her friend. "Sandwiches?"

"Sandwiches," Maxine repeated before taking a large bite. "Great sandwiches…and soup, too. But," she shrugged and gave a deliberate swallow, "if you're not hungry, you're not hungry…"

A turkey sub had been snatched from the bag and unwrapped before the sentence was complete. "I'm really not hungry," Calleigh said again before taking another bite.

"Okay," Max nodded complacently.

They chewed in silence for awhile before Calleigh swallowed. "I'm sure you just made more than two people happy by bringing me this," she commented, absently resting a hand on her ever-expanding belly. "Did Eric send you down here?"

"He asked that I hand-deliver my offerings."

"What's going on upstairs?" she asked quietly, staring straight ahead.

"Ryan and Frank are still with Wacops in interrogation," Maxine swallowed hard. "The rest of the team stopped for a little dinner—Natalia hasn't gotten anything off of the print found on the log book," she continued, "but she's trying a few other databases."

Calleigh nodded. "It's sounding like a lot of dead-ends."

Maxine pursed her lips, wondering if a lie—even a well-meaning lie—would hurt the situation. "I know it is," she said finally. "I'm going to go see what I can do." She squeezed Calleigh's small hand before standing. "Finish the rest of that sandwich," she ordered with a point toward the bag.

Calleigh nodded. "Thanks, Max."

She could have lied, she rationalized, making her way toward the stairs. She could have lied and said that everything was going to be okay and that Lucas was perfectly fine. But everyone knew, with every second that Wacops wasted of their time, that Lucas' chances were dwindling. Maxine shook her head and took the stairs two at a time. She hadn't lied, though. She hadn't said anything helpful, but at the very least, she told herself, she hadn't lied to the mother of a lost little boy.

**0x0x0**

"Look, Dave, I'm gettin' sick of this run-around," Frank said, pushing away from the glass table. "Why don't you give us something we can actually use? We already know you're working with someone.

David shrugged. "So you say."

"This isn't a coincidence," Ryan said, his voice low and unimpressed. "It was too perfect, Lucas getting taken just as soon as you go away for stalking his family."

"Wise man, Mr. Wolfe," the accused pointed out. "I don't believe in coincidence either—everything happens for a reason."

"Really?" he countered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then why don't you give me a reason why you're taking the fall for someone else's dirty work. Writing those notes? Tossing that bomb…is that really as far as all this was supposed to go?"

"Like I said, man," he held up his hands. "Everything happens for a reason."

"Cut the new age crap, Skip," Frank interrupted their exchange. "I don't give a damn what you believe. I'm gonna find this kid and you're gonna tell me who you're working with and what they want with Lucas."

"Speaking of reasons," David's eyes glinted in the florescent light, "why don't you give me one good reason why I should tell you anything."

Frank looked incredulous. "What are you, new? Help yourself, dumbass! We can put you down as cooperating with the investigation and trust me, that'll go a long way in a case against a sleaze ball like you."

"I don't need to be making any deals," he shook his head, unimpressed with this information. "I did what I did. I deserve to be where I am."

"Then prove that you're not like your cousin," Ryan said, sitting down to be closer to his target. "Lucas didn't do anything—help us save a little boy's life."

David digested this information for a long time before he spoke again. "It's got nothin' to do with the kid."

Ryan looked up from Wacops' file. "What did you say?"

"I said, it's got nothin' to do with the kid—he's just the best way to get to Delko."

"So you admit you know something about the kidnapping," Ryan prompted, feeling his palms begin to sweat.

"I ain't doing shit," he sat back deeper in his chair. "And you're not gettin' anything else outta me."

"Why don't you want to help yourself, David?" Frank asked, genuinely confused.

"I told you, Tex, you caught the bad guy. I deserve to be here, so I'm doing my time, paying my debt to society."

Frank, sensing that they were running into another brick wall, motioned for an escort. "Get him outta here."

"Toodles, officers," David called over his shoulder on the way out the door.

The detective sat down next to Ryan and ran his hands over what little remained of his hair. "That guy…"

"That guy wants to tell us something," Ryan declared, moving his hand away from its thoughtful position near his mouth.

"He's gotta a funny way of showing."

"No," Ryan shook his head. "He said 'I deserve to be here'."

"Yeah, he said it twice," Frank raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So criminals don't say stuff like that after three hours inside. He's too accepting."

Frank had begun to catch on. "So what do you think he's repenting?"

The younger of the two shook he head again. "I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "But see if we can push for that DNA swab again."

"You think this might be a family affair?"

"Blood's thicker than water," Ryan commented offhand. "I'm going to go see what I can dig up on Wacops."

"What about when we get this warrant?"

"Bring Natalia with you next time."

Frank's face contorted. "Natalia?"

"We've tried every other angle. Victim's parents," he motioned out toward where the Delkos were circulating CSI like nervous honey bees. "Tough guys," his hand moved between the two of them. "Maybe lips and hips'll soften him up."

"It's worth a shot, I guess," Frank took his cell phone from his hip. "I'll let her know."

Ryan was making his way down to the lab with determination to exhaust his new lead. He quickly placed a call to Horatio to inform him of his hunch and was hanging up when he crashed head first into another person.

Another very familiar person.

Maxine rubbed at her forehead. "Oww…" she muttered, her eyes crossed upward in a futile attempt to examine herself for wounds.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his own head.

"No, it's my fault," she waved his apology away. "I should be more careful."

"We've all got a lot on our minds," he agreed.

"So how is the case?" she asked, desperate to chase away the threat of another awkward silence.

"It's…uh…" Ryan shrugged, unable to keep himself from telling her the truth. "It's bringing back a lot of memories."

Save for a small nod of understanding, Maxine did not say anything before she leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. Her previous mission forgotten.

Ryan sat down next to her, not knowing what to say. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I know I need to be focusing on Lucas right now but I just…"

Maxine looked up and locked her large brown eyes on his. "You just what?"

He swallowed hard. "I just miss her so much. Sometimes I wake up and I forget, y'know? Just for a second. And for that second, everything's perfect again."

The silence that lapped over them was not the awkward kind they were used to. It was a sad and lonely wave of shared heartache that crashed upon them in the corridor.

"I don't blame you for what happened," Maxine said at last, folding her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. "It was…" she paused and took a deep breath. "It was wrong of me to make you think that I did. I was angry and hurt and…" she heaved another sigh. "It wasn't your fault…it wasn't anybody's fault."

Ryan's fingers were itching to reach over and entwine themselves with hers. He settled for resting his hand on her knee. "Max…"

She moved suddenly and got to her feet. "Well, I guess I'd better go…" she said, brushing herself off. Her eyes were kept on the ground as Ryan followed suit. "I just…I don't know…"

"Maxine…"

"Look, Ryan, we don't have time to talk about what's wrong with us right now. Lucas needs us more than…" she shook her head. "More than we do."

"Wait," he grabbed her hand. "Maxine, wait."

Again, she pulled away. "Ryan, not now."

"Well then when? You can't keep walking away from this."

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who did the walking," she snapped, hoping her hostility would be enough get him to drop the subject.

"It's not like I thought I had anything to come back to," he countered quickly before backing off. "Look, Max, I don't want to fight with you."

"And I don't want to fight with you," she said. "But I think we're running around in circles, here."

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean," she gave a heavy sigh. "I mean what are trying to save, Ryan? Do you really think it's worth all this?"

"Yes," he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. "I do. Don't you?"

"I…I don't…it's just," she let out a sound of frustration. "It's just over, okay? We're too broken and we've been apart too long to fix it. I think it's best if we both just cut our losses and move on."

"Move on? You think it's that easy?"

"It's not easy, it's just the only thing I can think of," she made a move to get past him, but he caught her arm. "Ryan, let me go."

"Not until you answer something."

"What?"

"Do you still love me?"

"Ryan, please—we both have places to be."

"Do you? Because I still love you."

His words gave her cause to stop struggling from his grasp. She took a few moments to catch her breath before meeting his eyes with hers. "It doesn't matter, Ryan. I can't do this anymore. Now please, let me go."

He released her arm and allowed her brush past him on her way back toward the team. As her heels clicked further and further down the hall, Ryan was reminded of his purpose for being in the hallway. He had a background to be digging through, he told himself, trying to shove his encounter with Maxine from his mind. Lucas was still out there—still needing his help.

**0x0x0**

It was over an hour later when Ryan's cell phone buzzed against his hip. He checked the caller display and held the phone to his ear. "What's up, Frank?"

"Natalia's processing Wacops' DNA right now—have you got anything on your hunch?"

"Maybe…" his eyes squinted and brought the microfiche article into focus. "I ran the name Wacops through an archive search of the local papers."

"And?"

"And I think I may have something, but I'm going to need him to fill in the blanks."

"You want me to call you with the DNA results?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Maybe that'll put things into perspective." After they hung up, he returned his attention to the screen. _Local Cheerleader Killed in Tragic Accident, _read the headline. "Cassidy Wacops—local teenager and captain of the Miami Southridge High cheerleading squad was killed last night a few miles from her home," he read aloud under his breath, skimming quickly over the vague details of the crash and the high school's reaction. "Wacops is currently the sole casualty of this tragedy. The driver of the vehicle was taken to Miami General with minor injuries." He stopped and read that line over again before continuing. "The neighbors have organized a prayer service for Wacops' grieving father and older brother."

He read the article a few more times, hoping that another first name would pop out at him. Nothing did. The story was more a human interest piece about the community reaction that an actually piece of hard news. Car accidents had a particular way of sliding over to page four or five.

When Frank called with Natalia's results, Ryan printed the story off and headed back—this time without incident—to the interrogation room. He took Natalia's proffered lab results and read over them. "This is interesting, Dave," he commented lightly, closing the file.

"I'm sure it is," he said good naturedly, getting comfortable in his chair. "You know, I think you guys are really going to miss having me around so much."

"Don't count on it," Frank sneered before Ryan continued.

"We've got a few questions about your family, Dave. I'm hoping you could fill us in."

"Fire away."

"First of all," Natalia perched on the edge of the table, "you don't lick your own envelopes."

"What?"

"It's not a crime," she said dismissively, opening the file again. "Lots of people don't—superstitious, sensitive taste buds…"

"Yeah, I don't want any roach eggs hatching in my tongue—I watch the news. What's your point?"

"My point," she clarified, "is that you not licking your envelopes proves that you have an accomplice."

"Oh really?"

"Not only that," she said, showing him her results. "It proves that he's a close male relative."

"We know it's not your cousin Joseph," Frank reminded, drumming his fingertips off of the table.

"We've been over this," David said. "I'm not doing your job for you."

"Fair enough," Natalia said, her voice still low and friendly. "But you've been doing a lot of things lately that are beginning to make us think that you're not as tough as you seem."

"That what you think, sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh," she even offered a smile before she continued. "You told us who your accomplice was really after, you made sure we had a clue to his identity with the envelope thing…Something tells me that you don't really want anything to happen to Lucas either."

"He's just a kid," David shrugged, his expression softening.

"Speaking of kids," Ryan interrupted, placing the news clip on the table. "Who is Cassidy?"

David's eyes doubled in size. "Where did you get that?"

"She your kid sister?"

He shook his head. "She was my cousin…we were the same age."

Ryan could tell he'd shaken something loose. "Same age, huh? You guys close?"

David nodded. "After her mom left…we all kinda stuck together, y'know?"

"So Cassidy was Joseph's little sister," Frank repeated. "Is that right?"

Another nod. "Her dad took it real hard, losing Cassie."

"Sounds like you took it pretty hard yourself," Natalia commented softly, searching his face.

"She was my best friend."

"David," Natalia took a chance and put her hand on his shoulder. "Who was driving the car the night that Cassidy died?"

He raised his eyes and took a deep breath. "I was. I was going too fast…it was raining and she kept telling me to slow down but…"

"But what?" she prompted.

"But I was seventeen," he shrugged again with a sniffle. "Ten feet tall and bullet-proof." He shook his head. "I got away with a broken arm—the cops said it was an accident but…" he sniffed again. "But it was my fault."

"And that's why you deserve to be here," Ryan filled in the blanks. "Because you think you killed Cassidy."

"Penance is penance. If this is what I gotta do to make it up to him…"

"Make it up to who?" Natalia asked, a crease forming between her brows. "Who are you repaying?"

"He was okay when he still had Joey," David continued. "Even after everything that happened…" he shook his head. "I ain't sayin' there wasn't something wrong with Joey," he clarified. "But he was all he had left."

"All who had left?"

"Uncle George."

"Your uncle put you up to this?" Ryan asked, his heartbeat quickening.

David nodded again. "After Joey was killed he kinda lost it. Said he had a plan to make the guy responsible suffer the way he did."

"And he blames Eric for what happened to Joey?" Natalia clarified.

"He wanted him to go to the state hospital—said he'd have extra protection there."

"But it was Delko's testimony that…" Ryan trailed off.

"Yeah," David's voice had lost it's arrogant lilt. "Way he sees it, Delko's got everything that got taken from him. Beautiful wife, great kids…happy family."

"David, it was _not _your fault what happened to Cassidy," Natalia said, meeting his eyes. "But what happens to Lucas _is _going to be on you unless you tell us what we need to know."

"I told you everything I know. I'm telling you, this is as far I went in the planning. I don't know anything after letting you guys catch me."

"Let us?" Frank scoffed, looking highly insulted.

"Frank," Natalia shot him a warning look. "David, there has to be something you're not telling us."

"You know what I know. He's got the kid and as far as I know, he's not going to do anything without Delko there."

"What do you mean?"

David's eyes met them all in turn. "He wants to make him watch when he kills the kid."

**0x0x0**

Eric had taken over Natalia's print database searching while she headed over to interrogation at Frank's behest. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his drowsy eyes and forced himself to concentrate.

Pulling him from a near trance was a buzzing of his cell phone in his pocket. Quickly he pulled it out and frowned as the word 'RESTRICTED' appeared on the caller display. "Hello?"

"Daddy?" Lucas coughed and sounded weak. Weak and far away.

But even weak and far away, he was alive. Eric's heart soared. "Lucas? Lucas is that you?"

"Dad, I'm sorry I went with him…" his son started to cry. "I'm really scared."

"It's okay, buddy, it's okay. I'm going to find you, all right? Can you tell me where you are?"

"I don't know," he coughed again.

Over the line came the sounds of a scuffle. "Lucas?" he cried into the phone, his grip on the device turning his knuckles white. "Lucas!"

"So now you know he's alive, Daddy," a gravel-dust voice came over the line.

Eric's blood ran cold. "Who the hell is this?"

"Someone who's grown a little tired of babysitting."

"I swear to God, if you touch him—if you hurt one hair on his head—"

"Powerful, isn't it?" the voice continued. "The bond between a father and his only son."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to meet me at this address," he rattled off his location so quickly Eric could hardly catch it all on paper. "The sooner the better, Delko," the voice warned. "It's time to say goodbye."

AN: Something spooky to end on in light of Halloween coming up next week. I know, after all of your patience last week, I could have at least given you something to swallow. But no, you'll just have to chew on this for awhile. And always, you know how reviews crank me into overdrive. Review early, review often! Tell your friends!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

AN: Ladyd10 called me a scamp…twice! I don't even know how to react to that. I mean I'm obviously pleased…let's be serious. This chapter is for her and her use of the word "scamp", restless-mess and her constant, glowing praise, and for Somewhere Apart because her last review was just OMGaweseomandwonderfulandamazing…just like her. Anyway, we're winding down here, lovers, so thank you so much for all of the amazingly wonderful positive feedback. Ya'll really know how to make a girl's day! Hope you enjoy this next bit!

**Chapter Thirteen**

When he looked back, it would seem to Eric that things happened in fragments. In one moment, he was staring at the phone and the address clutched in his hand; in the next, Horatio was assembling task forces, calling in SWAT, sending Ryan down to fill Calleigh in on what was happening.

And then they were in the Hummers. He was loading his gun and checking the safety. Horatio was speaking to him in a low voice, telling him that letting his emotions take control was the easiest way to get Lucas killed.

But he could think of nothing but his son. His mop of curly hair that constantly needed cutting. His dark eyes and full lips—so similar to Eric's that sometimes it was like looking in a mirror. The way his tiny feet had stumbled away from Calleigh as Lucas took his first trembling steps toward him. Eric thought painfully of Lucas' messy room. The dirtied soccer uniform, the ever-misplaced goggles, his books and toys, his insistence on having orange and green sheets for his bed.

What would they do if they had to return to that room without Lucas?

Eric didn't have time to ponder the horror of that possibility for long, because Horatio had skidded to a stop in front of a large warehouse in the shipping district. Beyond it, the water had nearly swallowed the sunlight; it reflected the day's last gasps of pink and red.

As they unloaded from the vehicles, SWAT had begun passing out Kevlar vests. "Eric," Horatio pulled him aside. "You're going to wear this under your shirt," he said, pushing a lighter vest into his hands. "It's lightweight so it shouldn't be as noticeable. I don't want to give this man any reason to panic."

"H," Eric shook his head, yanking his shirt off. "I think you guys should get out of here. If he thinks he's surrounded…"

"Eric, I'm not going anywhere," Horatio hooked him with a stare. "We're going to be as careful as possible and I promise you that when this is all over, you're going to have your son back." He could see his words did little to calm his friend. "Wacops is going to want you to come alone, but that doesn't mean you're not going to have backup. SWAT will be in place and I'll be covering you."

"Where do you want me?" Calleigh asked, appearing suddenly next to Eric.

Horatio blinked. "Excuse me?"

She raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Where do you want me?"

"No," Eric shook his head again. "Calleigh, I don't want you anywhere near this."

"Really?" her eyebrows remained raised. "Tough."

"Calleigh—" Horatio's voice had taken on an air of impatience.

"Horatio, no," her hand sliced through the air. "I am the best shot in three states—you are not going to tell me that I have to sit back and do nothing when my child's life is at stake."

"Ma'am," the Lieutenant gave a heavy sigh. "I need you to be reasonable. Right now, Lucas is our main concern but if I send you in with Eric," his eyes darted quickly downward and then back to her face, "if I send you in, Lucas is not going to be the only one of your children in jeopardy."

Calleigh's eyes dropped; she pursed her lips and nodded while Eric fastened his vest around him and pulled his shirt back on over his head. "Okay," she said softly. "But I want a radio."

"That I can do," Horatio nodded, relieved she had not allowed her hormones to get the best of her, and stepped away to give out the rest of his orders.

"Eric," Calleigh turned and placed her hands on his chest.

"I'll bring him back, Cal, I promise."

"Just _please_ be careful," she closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace, breathing deeply his warm, safe smell.

"I love you."

She looked up as he pressed his lips to hers quickly. "I love you too."

**0x0x0**

The fading sunlight fell in shafts across the floor through the high windows as Eric moved with stealth through the warehouse maze. His gun drawn, eyes scanning the perimeter, waiting for some sign of life…or some sign of a trap.

When the skyscrapers of shipments gave way to a wider space, Eric got the answer he'd been looking for.

Lucas stood in the center of the room, his eyes widened when they fell upon his father.

For a moment, all Eric could focus on was his son's eyes. For a moment, he didn't notice that the boy's hands were shackled behind his back. That his mouth was gagged with a red bandana. That a dark spot had appeared on the front of his jeans—proof of his terror. That the muzzle of a gun was pressed to his temple.

He followed the muzzle over to the gun and the weathered hand that held it. In truth, George Wacops could not have been much older than Eric's own father, but he seemed it. His hair was streaked liberally with steel, his face sagged with an exhaustion that no sleep could cure, and his eyes…his eyes were pinched with lines at the sides and stared straight ahead. Eric had never seen such dead, unfeeling eyes.

He blinked and looked back at his son, hoping Wacops would not see his gun shivering in fear. "Lucas, close your eyes," he ordered, his voice surprisingly steady. Lucas' brow furrowed and he hesitated. "Just do it!" Eric shouted, the last word bouncing back in echoes.

George Wacops chuckled. "They never seem to listen when it matters, do they Delko?"

Eric ignored him. "Shut your eyes," he repeated, "and when you open them this is all gonna be over, I promise." This time, Lucas obeyed with a gulping nod.

"It's touching," Wacops continued, "listening to you lie to him."

"This has nothing to do with him," Eric said, training his gun on the older man. "Just let him go and deal with me."

The muzzle pressed into the soft flesh of the child's face. "But that's where you're wrong," Wacops said. "This has everything to do with him."

"He didn't do anything," Eric countered with a hard swallow. "Please," he said, his voice speckled with desperation. "Please don't hurt him—I'll do anything. I'll give you whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" his opponent repeated in disbelief. "You took the only thing I had. If you hadn't gotten up on that stand…"

"I was doing my job."

"They would have sent him to the hospital. He would've been safe there. And instead…" Wacops shook his head, his jaw firmly set. "Instead you threw him to the wolves in that prison."

"I had a duty to the victim," Eric told him. "To my goddaughter…and my friends."

"I could barely identify him by the time they were finished. My own son…" the word struggled as it climbed from his throat. "My little boy…"

"Your son hurt a lot of people," Eric reminded, taking a step closer.

"He was _sick," _Wacops spat the word out as his voice faltered. "I know there was something wrong with him…but they could've helped him—made him better."

Eric's heart thudded so loudly he was certain that Calleigh could hear it outside. "No one deserves to die," he said with another hard swallow. "Not your son, and not mine. Please," he begged, "please just put the gun down."

"It's too late for that," the older man said plainly, the shadow of a tear swimming to the edges of his dark eyes.

"No it's not," Eric pleaded, forgetting about controlling his emotions and keeping his panic in check. "It's not too late. I know you feel like you don't have any other options…I understand—"

"No," he shook his head. "No, you don't understand. But you will."

**0x0x0**

Calleigh heard the shot from the warehouse and the radio at the same time. Her heart stopped and her eyes spasmed first wide and then closed as she prayed harder than she ever had in her life.

Horatio moved in from his position by the entrance, SWAT followed quickly, spanning out to secure the area.

Inside the warehouse, Horatio's heart nearly gave out at the sight of Eric, kneeling to untie Lucas. Beside them, George Wacops' body was sprawled in a pool of blood, unmoving, his cold eyes staring straight ahead.

As soon as his hands and mouth were free, Lucas latched on so tightly to his father that Eric could hardly breathe. "I knew you'd find me," he said into his shirt.

Grateful tears pricked at Eric's eyes, his fingers tangling themselves in Lucas' dark curls. "I found you," he said, scarcely believing it himself. "I'll always find you, buddy. Always."

**0x0x0**

"Mommy!"

Calleigh raised her eyes and blinked once…twice…three times to make sure she wasn't imagining Lucas running toward her, Eric following close behind. The child wrapped his arms around her best he could and hugged tightly. "Oh my God," she said, not willing herself to stand from her seated position. She pulled him back and held him at arms' length. "Are you okay?" she asked, tilting his face up to examine him from bruises. "Did he hurt you?"

Lucas shook his head. "I'm okay."

Calleigh pulled him close and hugged him tightly.

He was okay.

They were okay.

She looked up to share a grateful look with Eric when her eyes were drawn to a figure standing beyond him. Calleigh squinted, willing the lingering SWAT to disperse so she could have a better look. But by the time they'd moved, the man was gone.

Eric studied her for a moment. "What is it?" he asked, following her gaze.

"I thought I saw…" she shook her head. "Nothing. My eyes were just playing tricks on me." She turned her attention back to Lucas with a sniffle. "Are you hungry?"

Eric vaguely heard them discussing pizza and ice cream and anything else Lucas wanted. His eyes hadn't moved from where Calleigh had been staring. Speedle hadn't disappeared for him…not yet. Eric watched in disbelief as Tim raised a hand, offered a wink and a smile, and disappeared into the crowd.

His gun felt suddenly heavy against his hip. Eric took it out and checked it, popping the safety back into place, noting what he had suspected before—that he hadn't fired a single shot.

**0x0x0**

The clock beside her bed read 4:26am when Maxine gave up the battle for a good night's sleep. She sat up and turned the light on, rubbing her hands over her cold arms to expel the goosebumps. In the stress of the past few weeks, she hadn't been sleeping well; but this was the first time in awhile where not even the slightest dusting of drowsiness had visited.

Maxine sighed and took stock of her room. She could read the last few chapters of the book she'd been plugging through, she could watch some crap television, or…her eyes fell to the phone beside the bed. Or she could do what she'd been planning to do for the last several weeks.

She picked up the phone and the business card beside it and dialed the unfamiliar number. As expected, no one picked up and she waited for the answering machine.

"You've reached the office of Attorney Peter Caulfield. I'm sorry to have missed your call. Please leave your name, number, and brief message and I'll return your call directly."

Maxine took a deep breath and gave a hard swallow as the beep rang in her ears. "Hi, Peter, it's Maxine Wolfe. I'm sorry that it's taken so long to return your call…"

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AN: I'm sorry it's short, but there's only so much that will fit in one chapter. It's like they come with predetermined sizes. Technically, this could have been tacked onto the last chapter…but I'm a scamp (GOD I love that word!) and decided to split it up. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and you'll continue your absolutely marvelous support. I love you. We're almost done (2 chapters left). Stay with me.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

AN: Here we are, folks. The longest chapter ever—which is fitting because it's the first part of the wrap up. I'm dedicating this to all of my lovely reviewers, but especially to TexasJen as I know that today is her birthday (thanks for the tip, LJ!) and to the lovely SomewhereApart who was so kind as to act as my own personal labor coach…so to speak. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

By the time the second week of May had rolled around, things had more or less returned to normal. Normal for everyone, of course, except Calleigh, who had been trapped inside CSI for almost fourteen days.

"Hey," Ryan greeted with a suspicious eyebrow as he made his way into Trace. "Aren't you supposed to be on desk duty?"

Calleigh looked down and around. "This looks like a desk to me," she said, motioning to the large, backlit table before her.

He smiled. "I thought you were supposed to be sitting down."

"I have a stool," she waved vaguely to the abandoned steel saddle the janitors had dug up for her. Currently, it was the home of a box of evidence.

"Good to see it's going to use."

Calleigh waved away his sarcasm. "It hurt to sit on—I'm better off standing," she grimaced and made a futile effort to stretch out her back. "But I gotta tell you, July 9th is sounding pretty good right about now."

"Ready for it to be over, huh?" he asked, setting down his evidence and coming around to stand next to her.

"I haven't seen my feet in six months," she told him flatly. "The bloom is off the rose."

Ryan took a step back and peered around her large belly. "Well your socks are still matching," he told her cheerfully. "So you've got that going for you."

"I'm not wearing socks."

"But if you were, I know you're the type of woman who would make sure they were matching." She offered a sigh-laden smile and he couldn't help but notice how exhausted she looked. "Cal, are you okay? Maybe you should sit down and take a little break."

"No," she shook her head, unable to stop a yawn from escaping her lips. "I'm fine, really. It's just with everything that's been going on…first with Lucas and then his birthday party and then my parents were here and then the girls threw me that shower last week…" She interrupted herself with another yawn. "I just need to get my energy back."

"How's the little guy doing, anyway?"

"Good," Calleigh shrugged. "Nightmares every once in awhile but, as far as anyone can tell he's doing well." She paused and bent closer to the fabric in front of her. "Except that now he wants to take tap dancing lessons."

Ryan couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Tap lessons, huh?"

"Well I was okay with it until he told me why."

"And that is…?"

She rolled her eyes. "He's not in the same class as his little girlfriend next year—she told him to take tap class with her so they don't drift apart."

Ryan's chuckle morphed quickly into a belly laugh. "And Lucas went along with it?"

"Oh yeah!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "And I heard him telling Eric last night that even if he and Teresa break up that he can just use dance class as a way to find another girlfriend."

"My God," he shook his head. "It _is _hereditary."

They were laughing together when a pain that could no longer be considered fleeting struck Calleigh, nearly knocking her off of her feet. She braced herself on the table and pursed her lips.

"You okay?"

"Mmmhmm," she forced a smile and straightened as the pain dulled.

Ryan took the magnifying glass from her hand. "Come on, Big Mama," he moved quickly to pack up what she was doing and lock it safely in the locker.

"What are you doing? And what did I tell you about calling me that?"

"It's fitting now," he smiled, hooking an arm under her elbow and leading her from the lab.

"Where are we going?"

"Calm down," he muttered, shaking his head. "We're going to go have a seat on the big comfy couches in the break room. You're going to relax and I'm going to eat my lunch and we're both going to feel better when we go back to work in fifteen minutes, okay?"

Calleigh raised an eyebrow. "You can stop talking to me like I'm a child anytime a now."

"Got it."

"Where's Eric?" she asked, realizing she hadn't seen him since they'd reached CSI that morning.

"He's out with Horatio—something connected to that callout in Bal Harbor this morning." She made a sound of recognition and accepted Ryan's help easing herself down into the couches. Again she felt the muscles shift and spasm in her back, sending another overwhelming shock of pain through her system. Again she grimaced. "Calleigh, are you sure you're all right?" Ryan asked as his eyebrows knitted together in concern.

She nodded with a deep breath. "I'm fine," she said. "My back has just been a little sore today—I probably just slept on it wrong."

He looked unconvinced, but said nothing further while he got up and dislodged his lunch from the other brown bags in the refrigerator. He unwrapped a roast beef sandwich. "You want some?" he asked, offering her the first bite. Calleigh shook her head and he took a large bite. "You know," he began after he'd swallowed, "roast beef always reminds me of you."

She blinked. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

"You don't remember?" he smiled. "I threw a roast beef sandwich to an alligator the first case we worked together."

The memory resurfaced quickly, pulling a smile onto her face. "I do remember that," she assured him, remembering how excited and ambitious he'd been on his first day. The thrill of the job evident on his baby face. "Boy," she shook her head. "That seems like a long time ago."

"It _was _a long time ago, Cal," Ryan offered her another grin. "We're real grown ups now."

Calleigh laughed and rested her hands on her belly. "I guess we are."

They played the reminiscing game for the remainder of Ryan's lunch break. He didn't tell her the reason he was eating so slowly was because talking to her was the first time he'd had a chance to distract himself. When he was alone, working or at home, his mind inevitably drifted back to his coffee table—where a packet of divorce papers were lying, awaiting his signature. Calleigh had enough to worry about without adding his and Maxine's divorce to the mix.

Calleigh glanced down at her watch—they'd been slacking off for over twenty minutes. That was longer than she'd ever slacked off in her entire career. "Ryan, we'd better get back to work," she said, struggling once again to her feet. The moment she moved, however, another lightning rod of pain shot through her body and she braced herself on the armrest.

"Okay," Ryan turned from throwing his garbage away and paused, a look of panic stamped on his face. "Calleigh?"

"I'm okay," she lied, her face contorted.

"No you're not."

"Ryan," she opened her eyes and found that his were not on her face, but rather, on the floor by her feet. "I'm…"

"Calleigh…your water just broke," he stared at the puddle that was forming on the sofa and the floor. "You're not fine—you're in labor."

**0x0x0**

Ryan remembered Maxine going into labor with the haze of fondness that usually accompanies the birth of one's first child. He had forgotten the panic, the overwhelming sense of urgency, the iron grip of female fingers digging into his flesh. And this wasn't even his wife. This was Calleigh—of whom he had been at least a little bit afraid of since the day they'd met. He raked a hand through his short hair. Why oh _why _did this strange, horrible luck seem to follow him around?

He was still convincing Calleigh that she actually _was_ in labor and trying to get her to stand from the couch.

"No," she shook her head resolutely. "There is water everywhere—I can't walk to the elevator—it's humiliating."

"Calleigh," he took a deep breath, "everyone knows you're pregnant. Everyone understands what 'going into labor' means…no one is going to think any less of you."

"You can say that, Ryan," she snapped as the speed of her breathing increased. "_You _aren't sitting in a puddle."

He was trying to get around her point when Natalia wandered into the break room, her round eyes growing larger as they took in the scene. "Oh my God…"

"Yeah, Natalia, we're trying not to panic," Ryan prompted, giving Calleigh's arm another tug.

"Oh my God!" Natalia's hands suddenly became fluttery. "Calleigh, your water broke."

"I'm aware of that," she all but snarled, wrenching away once more from Ryan's grasp.

"You're in labor—you have to go to the hospital."

"No, I'm not and no I don't," she shook her head. "It's too early…it's way too early. There has to be something wrong…"

"Okay," Ryan said patiently, reaching for her arm again. "Then that's even more of a reason for us to get you to the hospital."

Calleigh took a deep breath, a few pieces of blonde falling into her face. "Okay," she nodded. "Okay, you're right. I'll go to the hospital, they'll…" she shook her head as the words failed her. "They'll do whatever they do to stop this and then everything will be okay."

Natalia and Ryan exchanged a worried glance before the brunette spoke. "Sweetie, we really need to get you downstairs before your labor progresses any further. Do you have your cell phone?"

Calleigh searched in her immediate area. "No," she looked panicked again. "It's over in Trace." She made a move to struggle to her feet. "I don't know what I was thinking…I never leave it laying around—"

"It's okay," Natalia's voice was doing a better job of soothing Ryan's nerves than Calleigh's. "I'll run over to Trace and get it—who do you need me to call?"

She closed her eyes in thought. "Um…Eric. Call Eric."

"Okay, anyone else?"

"I guess my doctor? I don't know…" she looked down. "I guess this constitutes an emergency."

"All right," she nodded and grabbed a hold of Calleigh's other arm. "I'll call them while you're on your way to the hospital."

She nodded nervously and allowed them to pull her up, swallowing a cry of discomfort. Ryan shot another panicked look in Natalia's direction. "You're not coming?"

Natalia looked exasperated. "Ryan, someone has to stay here and actually get some work done. I'm going to call everyone and you're going to take her to the hospital and call me when you know something."

"Couldn't we switch jobs?"

"I'm standing right here!" Calleigh exclaimed from between them as they made their way slowly toward the elevator. "And Ryan, you don't have to drive me—I can go myself."

"Calleigh, you can't drive like this."

"Then I'll take a cab," she snapped. "Natalia, just get me my phone and I'll call you when I get there."

"Don't be ridiculous," Natalia said, absently rubbing her friend's back. "Ryan will drive you, Eric's going to meet you there and they'll take good care of you."

The ride to the hospital was not as bad as he had been projecting. Eric had called Ryan's cell and had calmed Calleigh down considerably, assuring her he was leaving the scene immediately and would be to Dade Memorial as soon as he possibly could. Ryan flipped on the Hummer's lights to speed things along, trying not to notice that Calleigh's contractions were not doing anything resembling stopping. If anything, he realized with a near stroke of panic, they seemed to be quickening.

It wasn't until they reached their destination and Calleigh was being extracted from the car and eased into a wheelchair that she began to panic again. "You don't have to take me anywhere," she assured the nurse who was pushing her along the corridor. "I'm not having my babies today—and I'm not doing anything until my husband gets here. Ryan!"

"I'm right here, Cal," he reassured her, chasing the entourage down the hallway.

"Where is Eric? He said he'd meet us here—where is he?"

"He's…" Ryan glanced at his watch. "I don't know, Cal. I'm sure he's on his way."

He was grateful for the interruption as Calleigh's OBGYN met them at the reception desk. She was a pretty woman, middle-aged with long, dark brown hair and kind brown eyes. "Good afternoon, Calleigh—how're we doing today?"

"Well…" Calleigh looked down and back up. "I'm sort of hoping you can tell me."

Dr. Garza laughed and squeezed Calleigh's hand. "Looks like we're having a couple of babies."

Calleigh's eyes widened. "No we're not," she countered with a firm shake of her head. "It's too soon."

"That's why we're going to have to be extra careful," the doctor said patiently, initialing a few forms before passing the clipboard and pen to her patient. "I just need you to sign here and we'll get you into an examining room."

They were pushing her away when Ryan's phone buzzed against him again. "Delko," he greeted, running a hand through his hair. "Where the hell are you? I talked to you almost half an hour ago!"

"Don't start with me, Wolfe. The causeway is all backed up—the bridge won't go down. What's going on?"

"They took her back for an exam—her doctor didn't say anything about stopping the labor."

"Is she by herself?"

"Well…there are doctors…"

"Would you please go back there with her? I don't want her to be alone."

Ryan was fairly certain he felt his knees knock together. "She's going to throw me right back out."

"Wolfe," he could feel Eric's already short fuse coming to a rapidly fraying end. "Just go back there and hold her hand until I get there."

He sighed. "Yeah, okay. I can do that."

His prediction hadn't been wrong. Calleigh's eyes, which had been squeezed shut as another contraction roared through her body, flew open upon hearing his voice. "Get out of here, Ryan."  
"Sir, are you family?" one of the nurses asked, stepping into his path.

"No," Calleigh said, her voice cracking. "No he's not. Don't let him back here."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Her husband asked me to stay with her until he gets here," he explained to the nurse. "Cal," he called over to the hospital bed where Dr. Garza was setting Calleigh's feet into the stirrups. "Eric's stuck in traffic—he's going to be here as soon as he can."

"I can wait," she promised, taking a few deep breaths as a nurse wiped gently at the thin layer of sweat that had developed on her brow.

"Not for this one," Dr. Garza said, emerging from underneath her patient's hospital gown.

"What?"

"Hate to break it to you, Cal, but you're at ten centimeters."

"That's impossible—my water just broke an hour ago."

"Your cervix isn't lying, sweetheart. You've probably been in labor for a few days."

"A few days? But I just saw you on Friday—you said everything was fine."

"And on Friday, it was. But now it's Thursday and it's time to push." Dr. Garza turned and looked at Ryan. "If you're going to hold her hand, I'd suggest getting over here."

"I don't care what she says," Calleigh was instructing him as she curled her fingers around his hand. "I don't care what happens, no matter what, you keep your eyes _up here,_" with her free hand, Calleigh motioned so severely to her face that she nearly took her eyes out. "Understand?"

When Katie was born, Ryan remembered, there was a great deal of screaming and swearing. He'd had ice chips pelted at him, been called every name in the book, and was assured that if that kind of pain was the outcome they were never having sex ever again.

With Calleigh it was quite the opposite. The room was eerily quiet. But for Dr. Garza's rhythmic counting between pushes and the steady beeping of monitors, there was hardly any sound at all. Ryan's only indication that Calleigh was in any kind of pain was the iron grip she had on his hand.

"You're doing great, Calleigh," Garza reassured her with a comforting smile.

"Cal," Ryan cleared his throat. "Are you—"

"Don't talk to me," she snapped, her grip intensifying as her jaw clenched.

With the appearance of Eric sliding into the room, both Calleigh and Ryan heaved a sigh of relief. "Just in time, Dad," Dr. Garza gave another smile as Eric relieved Ryan from his post.

"Thanks, Wolfe," he smiled, swatting Ryan on the shoulder before he disappeared into the hallway. Eric leaned down and pressed a kiss to Calleigh's damp forehead. "Sorry I'm late."

She managed a painful smile up at him. "I was trying to wait for you."

"Okay, Calleigh," Dr. Garza looked up again and nodded to her patient. "You've got just two more big pushes and you're all done."

"All done?" she asked breathlessly.

"Well, with this one," Garza grinned. "Come on, sweetie, you can do this." Encouraged by her doctor's words and Eric's fingers tangled in hers, his other hand rubbing her back, Calleigh gave a nod. "Are you ready?" She nodded again. "Okay, I'm gonna count to three and I need you to push with everything you've got. One…two…three…"

And Calleigh pushed. And Eric held her hand until his fingers turned blue. And the doctor counted again. And after what felt like an eternity, there was a tiny baby girl weighing in at just over four pounds.

"Congratulations," Dr. Garza said, holding up the child to her parents. "You have a beautiful baby girl."

"Is she okay?" Calleigh asked, her heart racing, her ears waiting for the baby to begin to cry. "She's not crying."

"She's okay," the doctor promised handing her to her mother for proof. "She's just a little smaller than we'd like—they'll want her up in the NICU for observations."

She was a little sticky, very pink, and looking thoroughly disgruntled at her sudden appearance in the world, but as far as either Calleigh or Eric could see, there was nothing wrong with her. Calleigh's vision blurred as tears pricked at her eyes; she looked up at Eric, unsurprised to find him teary as well. He bent and kissed her. "You did it, Cal. She's beautiful."

"She needs a name," Dr. Garza reminded as a nurse entered the room.

"We were thinking about Eva," Calleigh remembered a recent conversation. Eric nodded and handed the baby to the nurse.

"Say 'bye-bye, Mom and Dad'," the nurse cooed to baby Eva as she whisked her away for a bath and an incubator.

**0x0x0**

Ryan was tapping his foot nervously when Eric found him in the waiting room a few minutes later. He stood and raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

"We've got a little girl," he said proudly proclaiming the secret he'd kept for months. "Eva Katherine."

Ryan's expression changed. "Katherine?"

"If it's okay with you," Eric said quickly. "I mean, her doctor said that if you hadn't gotten her here when you did…" he trailed off with a shrug. "If you don't want us to—"

But Eric never got to finish the sentence because Ryan had put his arms around him in an uncharacteristic impromptu hug. "I think that'd be okay," he said, releasing his friend almost as quickly as he'd embraced him. "Congratulations, Delko. How's Calleigh?"

The moment had passed quickly and Eric could tell that it wasn't going to be something they talked about. "She's good. They're taking her upstairs for the next one since there's a little bit of time."

Ryan nodded, Eric's contagious smile catching hold of him. "I'm going to start calling everyone."

Eric patted his shoulder again. "I appreciate it, Wolfe."

**0x0x0**

By the time visiting hours were over for the night, Eva Katherine Delko had a sister and Lucas had gotten his wish. Amelia Marisol came into the world about an hour after her big sister and despite being smaller and a little bluer at first, was also given a clean bill of newborn health. All three of the Delko women would have to stay for observations—the girls a few days longer than their mother—but barring any unexpected events, would able to go home shortly.

After the swarm of family that descended upon the newborns and their parents, friends were welcomed in. Natalia and Alexx had shown up first, bearing gifts and cards and hugs and kisses of congratulations. Horatio had come next, with quiet smiles and a fatherly kiss to Calleigh's forehead; he was followed by Frank and Adele and finally Maxine, who showed up just long enough to drop off a huge bouquet of tulips.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner; I know I only have a few minutes," she apologized, setting the flowers down on the bedside table. "Opa-locka's a mess." Her frustration with traffic faded quickly as she remembered the reason for the trip. "Where are these beautiful little girls I've heard so much about?"

"They're up in the NICU," Calleigh said disappointedly around a yawn. "Size aside they're doing really well."

"Eric's with them now?" she asked, looking around the room.

Calleigh nodded. "He took Lucas up."

"I'll bet he's thrilled."

The blonde smiled wearily. "I've never seen him so excited."

Maxine looked down with pursed lips before raising her eyes to meet her friend's. "Natalia…Natalia told me Eva's middle name…"

"If you're not okay with it," Calleigh sat up straighter with some difficulty, "we can have it changed. It's just that Ryan kind of made sure she wasn't born at CSI and…"

"Calleigh," Maxine cut her off with a sad smile. "It's a beautiful name."

Their hands found one another in a tight grasp. "It is, isn't it?" They sat in companionable silence for a few long moments before Calleigh cleared her throat. "You know, Ryan's been hanging around all day."

"Yeah," Maxine said softly, avoiding eye contact. "I saw him for a second when I came in. He was talking to Horatio."

"I think he was waiting around to see you."

"Well," she detangled their hands and stood up. "Well I didn't come here to see him," she said breezily. "I came here to give you those flowers and to say congratulations."

"Max…"

"Calleigh…"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not one to pry…but maybe you should hear him out."

Maxine sighed and checked her watch. "I'm sure he's gone by now—he looked like he was on his way out."

"If he's still there…"

"I'll think about it," she cut her off, grabbing her purse from the neighboring chair. She bent and kissed Calleigh's cheek. "Get some rest, Cal. I'll be back first thing after shift tomorrow for baby snuggles."

Maxine hadn't been lying. She _was_ thinking about talking to Ryan. In fact, it was the only thing she'd been thinking about for weeks. Talking to Ryan. Apologizing to Ryan. Making up for their last encounter. Actually, if she were honest and let her mind wander a little further, she had been thinking about doing a lot more than just talking to Ryan. The elevator chimed pleasantly and she stepped inside, shaking the thoughts from her head.

"Maybe I just need to get laid," she muttered to the empty box, watching the doors slide close in front of her. But said aloud, the words sounded every bit the cheap and meaningless lie they were.

Ryan had not left by the time she got down to the lobby. Of course he hadn't. He'd been waiting around to talk to her just like Calleigh had said he would be. He glanced up when the doors to the elevator slid open and got to his feet. "You…uh…you see the babies?" he asked nervously, when she approached.

"No," she shook her head. "There wasn't enough time. I'm, uh, coming back tomorrow. After work."

"Good," Ryan nodded and smacked an anxious hand to his fist.

"Well," she hitched her purse onto her shoulder. "Good night."

She'd only managed to make it through the sliding doors to the parking lot when she stopped at the ashtray. "Max—" Ryan came after her, surprised to find her no longer moving. "I was expecting you to have gotten further."

She shrugged. "I figured you were getting sick of chasing me. What do you want?"

"I want to talk to you."

She looked around with another shrug. "So talk."

"Seems like something we should do before we sign those papers," he remarked bitterly, sending a flush through her cheeks.

"Look, Ryan, about those papers…"

"Is that really what you want?" he asked, meeting her gaze. "You want a divorce?"

She swallowed hard. "I…I don't know."

"Be honest, if I went home and signed them tonight—how would you feel?"

His words hit her swiftly in the stomach. Even when she'd given them to the lawyer to send off, she hadn't really thought about how she would feel when the whole thing was said and done. "I…"

Ryan reached out and slipped his hand into hers. "How would you feel?"

She hated that her eyes had shrink-wrapped themselves in tears. She hated that she had done this to him—to them. That things weren't easy and simple the way that had been. That this was where they had ended up. "I'd feel like I'd lost my best friend," she admitted softly, looking down again. "But…I mean…" she sniffled. "I guess it's a little late for that."

Ryan's other hand caught her chin and lifted her eyes to his. "No it's not," he told her softly. "Maxine, we've been through hell…I know that. I know we can't go back to the way things were but…" he stopped and swallowed hard. "But it's not too late."

"I just don't know…"

"You think I do?" he gave an astonished little laugh. "I've never been more scared of anything in my life. But I realized something today, looking at those two beautiful baby girls in there." Ryan took another steadying breath. "Life just moved on, Max. As much as we both wanted it to stop…it didn't. We can't ever get Katie back and as much as that hurts…there's still a lot of good here."

His echoing of Calleigh's earlier wisdom gave her cause to nod. "I do still love you," she admitted finally, the words lifting some of their weight from her shoulders. "But…"

He put a hand to her lips. "You still love me?" she nodded. "Then don't do this thing with the lawyers, Maxine. Give us another chance." Before she had a chance to say another word, Ryan had moved his hand to her cheek and pulled her close. Her tears had streaked down and left their salty residue on her lips, but he didn't care. He'd almost given up hope of ever getting another chance to kiss her—he wasn't about to lose her again without a fight.

"I'm sorry," she pulled away after a few long moments, taking in a deep gulp of air. Ryan's heart froze. "I'm sorry for everything."

He felt himself relax as she put her arms around him. He kissed the tip of her nose, tilting his forehead to rest against hers. "It doesn't matter," he told her softly, toying with a lock of her hair. "We're gonna be okay."

Maxine leaned into his embrace and realized, for the first time since that awful day so long ago, that he was right. They were going to be okay.

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AN: As far as last chapters go, it wasn't my favorite. But it was a means…and sometimes that's enough. I hope that, despite my mediocre feelings toward it, you enjoyed and will leave me some love because it really is what gets me through the day. (How sad is that.) Keep your peels open for the epilogue. You know the deal, the more love I receive, the faster I can crank out fanfic. Love you guys!


	16. Epilogue

AN: _Although we've come to the end of the road…still I can't let go…_Okay, enough BoyzIIMen, although they are fabulous. This is the final installment of this scampy little fic. Hope you all enjoy it and continue your wonderful, fabulously awesome support.

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**Epilogue**

_**Three Years Later**_

Ryan hated to be late for anything—but Thanksgiving dinner was probably the worst. If this year was like every other, he should have been at the house twenty minutes ago to assure a full plate. But the criminals of Miami rested for no man—even a man equipped with two bottles of wine and a pumpkin pie in the backseat of his car.

He pulled onto the road alongside the full driveway, locked his car behind him and with arms full, made his way into the house. "Sorry I'm late!" he called, kicking off his shoes into the pile by the door.

"'Bout time you got here," Frank commented from the living room, not bothering to get up from where he, Horatio and Kyle were watching a game.

Ryan rolled his eyes, set down his offerings and closed the door behind him. From upstairs, he heard a thundering of feet racing to the staircase. Amelia managed to get there first, her blonde bangs falling to her large brown eyes as she peered through the railing. "UNLCE WYAN'S HERE!" she turned and exclaimed to her siblings and cousins.

Her stumbling, three year old feet clobbered down the stairs and she threw her arms around his legs. "Hey there, Miss Amelia," Ryan greeted, lifting the child up for a proper hug.

Eric emerged from the bathroom right as the stampede of children reached the bottom of the staircase. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, pressing himself against the wall while they scatted themselves around the house.

"Hey Uncle Ryan," Lucas greeted while Ryan set Amelia back down.

"What's up?" Ryan pulled him in for a quick hug and swatted his shoulder. "How long are you off school?"

Lucas shrugged. "I think until Monday."

"Want to shoot some hoops sometime, maybe tomorrow?"

The boy smiled. "Yeah," he turned his attention to Eric. "Hey, Dad—when are we eating?"

Eric checked his watch. "I think three," he grabbed his son's shirt as he made a move for the kitchen. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

"But I'm hungry."

Eric chuckled. "You're always hungry." He noticed all that Ryan had brought with him. "Actually," he motioned to the wine and pie, "take that in—see if you can get an ETA on dinner."

Eva had wandered back into the foyer at this point, looking distraught. "Daddy," she tugged on Eric's pant leg. "Where's 'Mela?"

"I don't know," Eric answered honestly, searching his immediate surroundings for his other daughter. "I think she might be with Shep," he scooped her up before she could meander away and turned her to Ryan. "Are you going to say hi?"

Eva ducked her head shyly. "Hi, Uncle Wyan."

Eric nudged her with his shoulder. "What do you say to people today?"

"Happy Franksgiving," she said quietly, a proud smile coming to her face.

Ryan leaned in and kissed her on her rosy cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, sweetheart." He watched her run off in search of her sister and commented, "She's getting better."

"Yeah," Eric agreed with a nod. "I think pre-school's doing a lot of good."

Almost immediately, Eva and Amelia had displayed different personalities. While Amelia had gone to everyone who wanted to hold her willingly, enjoying the attention that was heaped upon her, Eva had been more withdrawn, preferring only to be held by her parents or Lucas, making the occasional exception for Grandpa or _Abuela_. As she'd gotten older, some of Eva's initial shyness had slowly disappeared, but it was something Eric and Calleigh were still trying to work on.

Calleigh emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans; she smiled when she saw who had arrived. "Hey," she pulled him in for a quick hug.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

"Don't worry about it," she waved the words away. "Max just got here a little bit ago." As she spoke the trio moved from the foyer into the crowded living room.

Maxine was seated in the armchair in the corner. She looked up with a smile when Ryan walked through the door. "There he is," she said softly to the sleeping baby boy in her arms.

Ryan crossed the room quickly and brushed his lips to hers. "Hey, beautiful." His hand patted the downy hair of his two-month old son. "Hey, slugger—still givin' Mom a hard time?"

She shot him an unimpressed look. "It's his favorite pastime. I lost the green pacifier and he's been cranky."

Ryan's hand disappeared into his pocket and returned with the pacifier in question. "You mean this one?"

Maxine's smile doubled in surprise. "Where was it?"

"In my car," he shrugged modestly.

"You're Super Dad!"

"Yeah well," he gave a proud smile, "you're lucky to have me."

"Don't I know it."

He leaned down and kissed her again. "I'm going to go wash this off."

The kitchen smelled heavily of savory turkey and stuffing, the wine was breathing, the table was set…Calleigh had outdone herself once again. Ryan ran Jonah's pacifier under the hot water, stealing another glance at his wife and baby while the water ran over his hands.

The road to that Thanksgiving had not been an easy one. It had been paved with fights and tears and more than a few times they'd almost given up for good.

But they hadn't.

Because just when it seemed like there was no reason to keep trying, Maxine had found out she was pregnant; and if there was ever motivation to make things work—that was it.

Ryan swallowed hard and turned off the water, drying the pacifier on a paper towel as he turned back to the living room, he eyes fell on the calendar. In a week, it would be five years since Katie had been killed. Five years since his life had been torn apart. True to his word, not a day had gone by that he hadn't missed his daughter, but the pain had dulled. He found, especially since Jonah had been born, that it was easier to remember the good things—her sparkling eyes, her rippling giggle, the brush of her dark hair against his face.

Five years was enough time to change your life; to lose everything and to get back to who you used to be.

Ryan could see that now.

Amelia had found him once again and lifted her arms to be picked up. She swung easily onto his hip and pointed to the heavily decorated refrigerator. "Uncle Wyan…look at my picture!"

He moved them over to the finger painting in question—a collection of different colored smears that resembled stick figures. "It's beautiful," he complimented. "Want to tell me about it?"

She nodded proudly. "It's eve'yone."

"Everyone?" he laughed as she began to point them out.

"Eva and Wucas and Mommy and Daddy and 'Watio and 'Tawia and you and Aunt Max and…" she pointed to a blue blur in the corner, "that's Jonah."

"You did a great job."

Amelia gave a wide smile. "It's my famiwy."

Ryan mirrored her smile as they made their way back into the living room where everyone had gathered.

Family—something he had almost lost completely.

Family—the most important thing in the world.

No amount of time could ever change that.

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AN: And that's it, lovers. We come to yet another fluffy conclusion, just in time for the holidays. Eva and Amelia are based on two lovely little girls I spent the weekend with—three-year old speech impediments and all. I'm so happy that all of you enjoyed this story as much as you did; I look forward to writing more in the future. Hope you all have a wonderful holiday season!


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